


POV Switch Prompts

by FettsOnTop (GTFF)



Series: Meeting Like This [8]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types
Genre: Multi, POV switch, Tumblr Prompt, pov writing challenge, ratings vary
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-06-10
Updated: 2017-09-11
Packaged: 2018-07-14 06:57:16
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 21,447
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7158425
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GTFF/pseuds/FettsOnTop
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>I asked my tumblr followers to suggest one chapter from any of my fics and I rewrote itfrom another character's POV. Ratings are marked at the beginning of each chapter.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Comm sex

This was written in response to a request for [Chapter 2 of the OTP NSFW Challenge](http://archiveofourown.org/works/5885536/chapters/13564861) from the POV of a prisoner in Fett's hold. As the title suggests, the original fic was rated E, but this is more of a mild M.  

* * *

 

Oha Neroyn stared through the shimmering force-field of the tiny cell, shaking with terror and outrage. “You can’t keep me here. I haven’t done anything!”

“I know.” The bounty hunter standing on the other side of the field wore a full suit of Mandalorian battle armor, his face hidden by a sinister helmet with a narrow, t-shaped visor. “I’m looking for your father.”

Oh _kriff_. Of course. Her dear, charming, totally immoral conman of a father. “I don’t know where he is.”

“I know.”

“So why _am I here_?”

“Bait.”

Oha sat down on the cold durasteel floor and put her head between her knees. This was so unfair. Her whole life she had pursued good, honest labor, striving to be like her pantoran mother and unlike her human father. Being a shipyard technician on Kuat was not an easy life, but it provided for the people she cared about the most .

She raised her head. The bounty hunter was still there. “Please,” she said. “I have a husband and three young children.”

“I know,” he said for the third time. “Cooperate with me and you’ll see them again.” He turned and left.

Oha didn’t believe him. Not for a second. Once he had her father, he had no reason not to dispose of her by dropping her body out the airlock. If she wanted to see Anilie and the children again, she would have to find a way to escape. There was one thing that gave her the smallest grain of hope, and that was this ship.

It was Kuati manufactured. Oha had never worked on any Firespray class ships herself, but there were common, mass-produced components that she recognized.

First, though, this cell. There were four holding cells, two with actual durasteel bars, and two more with force-field containment. Any breach of the field would result in a high-voltage shock, unless she could break the field at the same time on either side of the voltage processor.

Her father once stole a million-credit sculpture using the very same technique. “Okay, _Dad_ ,” she muttered. “You got me into this. Let’s see if you can get me out.”

She removed the duraplast soles of her boots and held one in each hand, one high and one low. She had to break the field at the right spot at exactly the same time, otherwise this was _really_ going to hurt.

Zzzzzpt. She almost cried with relief when she saw the break in the field. She laid the bottom sole carefully on the edge, giving her a four-inch crack right next to the cargo hold wall. The panel beside it had chipped yellow paint on it, which was an old Kuati method for marking the comm system path.

Her only hope was to break the whole system so badly that bounty hunter would be forced to land for repairs. She knew she could do it, but the working conditions weren’t exactly ideal. She would have to slide her arm through that narrow space, loosen the panel on the wall just enough to get her hand behind it and locate the prime feed connector blind.

The panel was the easy part, it was old and slightly warped. The wiring beneath it, however…

_Kriffing_ hell. There should be about eight wires and the thruster line between her and the prime feed, and her fingers counted fifteen wires before she gave up. The gods only knew what kind of modifications the bounty hunter had made, so she would have to find the thruster line and count back. And if there was an alarm switch on the wiring, she had to pull that first.

It was slow going. Sweat gathered at the nape of her neck and dripped down her back. At last she located the thruster and began to count back. There. The alarm switch. She yanked a wire and sparks flew, singeing her hand. “ _Mother-_ ” She gasped, only to forget the pain a second later when the ceiling projector in the cargo bay flickered on. Oh _fek_.

The feed was coming from a recorder that looked down into the cockpit. A human male with dark hair sat in the pilot’s chair, his eyes on the console. He didn’t look up at the recorder. In fact, he didn’t seem to realize that it was on.

Oha blinked and started breathing again. She must have pulled the wrong wire and reversed the feeds. She gaped at the man for a moment, her pulse still pounding in her throat. Was he the bounty hunter? On a ship this small, it seemed unlikely that he would have a separate pilot. It must be him.

He sat back in his chair and rubbed the bridge of his nose. He wasn’t what Oha expected. Just an ordinary man, wearing a sleeveless undershirt and pants. He looked tired. If he would just go to sleep, that would be _wonderful_.

Carefully she put her hand back into the mess of wires. At least she would have some advance warning if he decided to return to the cargo bay. She started to count again. _One…two...three...four..._

Out of the corner of her eye she saw the bounty hunter sit up abruptly, and she froze, staring at the projection. His mouth moved soundlessly, but he didn’t get up. The comm panel was lit, but no visual projection appeared. His shoulders were tight and his eyes were fixed intently on the panel. Then suddenly he relaxed, slouching back into his chair. His mouth moved again. He was talking to someone.

At least he was occupied. She returned to her task, tension throbbing through her arm as she worked her way deeper into the wiring. _Kriff_ , who in the galaxy needed so many separate encryption lines? Under different circumstances, she would tell him to ditch the multi-line system and run a cluster line from the gamma box.

_Five...six…seven..._ She glanced up at the projection and immediately lost count. The bounty hunter was unsnapping his pants. The comm panel was still lit. Was he calling a _kriffing_ sex line?

Well...that should hold his attention for a while. “Go for it,” she muttered, but it was sort of hard not to be distracted by a large projection of a man pulling his cock out of his shorts. “It’s sad,” she said aloud. “No visual, so probably not even a live person. I bet you’re calling one of those shady sex bot lines. Sad and pathetic.”

Whatever the sex bot was saying, it was clearly working for him. He was almost fully erect, and his hand moved up and down, stroking his thick shaft.

Oha swallowed. _Fek_. She shouldn’t be watching this. It felt like a violation, to witness such a personal act when the other person was unaware. On the other hand, she didn’t ask to be here. She sort of wished she could hear what fantasy he was jerking off to.

His eyes closed briefly, and his hand moved a little faster. He shifted, and she caught a glimpse of clenched teeth between his lips. He was really working it now.

“Oh, stop it,” she muttered to herself. Her adrenaline was so high right now, a little sympathetic arousal was understandable. One last rough pull and he came, spilling messily onto his shirt. He slumped back against his chair, his hands resting on the arms. After a few seconds he rolled his neck and shoulders and sat up to remove his stained shirt.

He was very fit, his muscles well-defined in his chest and abdomen. A good body and a big cock. Oha tsked as she reached back into the panel. “And still you’re calling a sex bot line? Get your life together, asshole.” Now that the show was over, she could fully concentrate on her work. Wait, was that it? She pulled on the wire and then nearly jumped out of her skin when a woman’s voice filled the cargo hold.

“Seven hells, I’m ready to go to bed.”

“You should,” a man’s voice answered and Oha’s eyes flew up to the projection.

“So should you,” said the woman, who was definitely not a sex bot. “Go to your bunk and get some sleep.” There was a splashing sound, which was kind of weird. “When you wake up, you’re going to find that bastard, get paid and come home. Is that understood?”

His mouth curled into a lazy smile. “Understood.”

“And no more jobs for at least a month.”

He shook his head. “Don’t push it.”

“Don’t argue. I’ve been solo with the boys for at least that long. You _owe_ me.”

_Kriff_ , the look on his face. He loved this woman. He missed her. “We’ll talk about it when I get back,” he said, his voice even.

“Yes, we _certainly_ will.” The transmission ended, and the lights died on the comm unit.

All except for one.

The bounty hunter sat up slowly, and then, to Oha’s horror, looked directly into the recorder.

She actually covered her face for a second, like a youngling trying to hide and when she dropped her hands, his chair was empty. She could hear the sound of boots on the ladder and the shaking started again. There was no point in trying to hide her attempted sabotage. She was going to die now, and she would never see Anilie or her children again.

And then he was there, still shirtless, his pants hastily fastened. He looked first at the disrupted force field, then the ravaged wiring, then up at the projection that still showed his empty chair. Then he looked directly at her. There wasn’t a hint of emotion on his face, which was somehow even more terrifying.

She didn’t know how she found the strength to speak, or where the words even came from. But she did it anyway, with hardly a tremor. “You have a family,” she said. “People who love you and want you to return to them. So do I.”

A muscle jumped in his jaw. It seemed that eons passed before he spoke. “Help me capture your father alive, and I give you my word I will return you to Kuat and pay you five thousand credits for your time.” He took a step closer to the cell. “Tell _anyone_ that I have a family, and I promise you, you will lose yours forever.”

Oha nodded rapidly. “I swear it. But I need to send word to my husband so he knows I’m alive-”

“Not part of the deal.”

“I’ll show you how to shortcut your encryption so you don’t have jumps between the connectors.”

His eyes shifted over to the panel while he gave it a moment of silent consideration. “One message. Not to your husband. To someone you can trust to tell him in person.”

“You think my father’s monitoring my transmissions.” In all fairness, it wouldn’t be the first time. “Agreed. One message.”

He flipped the boot sole aside, and entered the code to deactivate the force field. “Let’s go.”

  
  



	2. when they couldn't keep it quiet any longer

The prompt was for [Chapter 1 of _There Was a Time_](http://archiveofourown.org/works/1157076/chapters/2347807) from Mon Mothma's POV. Rated T. 

* * *

 

They huddled against the walls, gasping, grateful for what little protection the conference room offered. As soon as Mon Mothma caught her breath, she took a quick survey of her companions. Senator Kreebe was panting and clutching at the long sleeves of his robe, his cybernetic eye blinking furiously. Pooja Naberrie had fallen to her knees, looking down at her shaking, oil-stained hands, and Leia…

Leia Organa was standing, holding her blaster pistol in a steady, two-handed grip. Leia always did have a stronger stomach for violence and mayhem, a trait Mon never envied, but did find herself very grateful for on this occasion.

She was the only one of them that came armed to this meeting in Coral City, which was intended to be a quiet exploratory committee meeting to discuss her nomination to the position of Vice Chair in the senate. She was the first out of her seat when the Noghri attackers burst in, and she was the one who came up with the idea for the barricade and the explosive grenades made from oil lamps and scraps torn from her blue silk gown.

She was always resourceful, but it was knowledge that came at a price. Leia had had come of age in a time of war, and spent most of her adult life surrounded by violence and death. That was definitely not something that Mon Mothma envied. “What do we do now?” She asked aloud, and everyone looked to Leia, but she was pressed into the doorway, listening.

“The lift to the docking bay is at the south end of the courtyard,” Pooja said slowly as she regained her breath. “Maybe the bomb got them all, maybe-”

“There could be more at the docking bay,” Leia pointed out. “They have to be coming from somewhere.”

“It would be exceptionally helpful,” Mon remarked dryly, “if we knew what they were after.” As Chancellor of the senate, she might be most likely target. But in a room full of senators and former rebels, it could be any one of them.

“Senator Organa,” Kreebe spoke up. “Forgive me for not bringing this to your attention before...but there have been rumors that a bounty has recently been offered for your capture.”

“It wouldn’t be the first time,” she replied, with more humor than concern.

“No...but...Noghri are mercenary creatures, are they not? It's possible that they’re working for someone.”

That made perfect sense, but Leia’s response was indifferent. “I suppose so.”

“As I’m sure you are aware, I have many sources throughout the galaxy, fellow borgs who gather information in the cantinas and cafes all across the star systems. Last week a source brought me disturbing news, but I admit I didn’t give it much weight at the time.” Kreebe’s tone turned fawning. “You are so adored, Senator, by your people and by your friends in the core, it was unthinkable-”

“What news?” Leia demanded, so harshly that the cyborg seemed taken aback.

“Klo, we don’t have time for speeches,” Mon reminded him. “If you have information that could help us, please share it.”

Kreebe nodded, and licked his lips. “The source said that a bounty hunter has been contracted to remove you by any means necessary. They say he’s the best. The ‘top of the food chain,’ if you will.”

Leia stared at him. “Did your source tell you his name?”

“Boba Fett.”

Her response was not what Mon was expecting. She looked at Kreebe as if she thought he might be telling a joke. One thing was certain, it was a name she recognized. On further consideration, Mon realized she knew it too. “Wait a minute. I feel I’ve heard that name before. That’s not the same bounty hunter that froze Captain Solo in carbonite? The one you spent months chasing all over the galaxy?”

She looked down at her blaster, rubbing the surface with her thumb. “I think the carbonite was Vader’s idea, but yes, it’s the same man.”

“Then it is possible that this bounty hunter might be holding a grudge.”

“That was never about me,” Leia said dismissively. “Jabba the Hutt put a price on Han’s head, and Fett collected. Besides, that was nearly eight years ago.” She edged out into the doorway and took a quick peek around the corner. “I think we should check the courtyard. If they are coming up the docking bay lift, maybe we can rig up some sort of trap.”

Mon Mothma looked at the others. Kreebe was sweating profusely, but he offered no objections. Pooja gracefully stood to her feet, like the Naboo lady she was. Standing side by side, it was easy to see that her mother and Leia’s mother were sisters. They had the same hair, the same fair skin. Pooja, however, lacked the reckless streak that Leia must have inherited from her father’s side of the family. Maybe reckless was the wrong word. Maybe it was just pure _nerve_ .

“Agreed,” Mon said to Leia and they edged slowly out into the hallway, creeping towards the courtyard doors.

Pooja stayed close to Leia’s side. “There’s something I have to tell you about this Fett business,” she murmured, and Leia shot her an agitated look.

“Can it wait? We’ve got our hands full of danger at the moment.”

“That’s why I have to tell you now.” She lowered her voice even further, but Mon caught the words “Padme,” and “assassination attempt.” Leia gave a quiet response and then Pooja said something about Kamino and all of the pieces fell into place like a puzzle. A puzzle she hadn’t thought about in well over twenty years.

Leia’s biological mother, Senator Padme Amidala, survived an assassination attempt that killed one of her bodyguards. Mon remembered watching the news, shaken by the bold attempt to kill a senator on government property in broad daylight. There was a second attempt soon after, this one in the senator’s home.

Two Jedi were assigned to investigate, and it was during this investigation that the existence of the clone army was uncovered on Kamino. There was mad scramble by politicians on Coruscant to take a position on it. Was it legal to use a clone army? Was it ethical? If they weren’t integrated into the military, what would happen to eight million human men and boys trained for lethal combat?

In the end, Palpatine stepped in. The Separatist threat was too great, he said, and politicians hurriedly agreed with him because no one else had any idea what to do.

Mon Mothma herself volunteered for the Clone Integration Committee, because it was the kind of thing a junior senator should do, and it gave her access to the records of how the clones were created, raised and trained. That was how she knew that the genetic template for the clones was a Mandalorian bounty hunter called Jango Fett, but until now she hadn’t considered the connection between the two names. Jango Fett. Boba Fett. Both bounty hunters. What a curious coincidence, unless of course, it wasn’t a coincidence at all.

Clearly Pooja was under the impression that it was not, but Leia didn’t appear to be convinced.

“Don’t be so quick to dismiss it,” her cousin insisted. “Stranger things have happened in this galaxy.”

Kreebe had also taken note of their conversation, it seemed. “This bounty hunter is feared far and wide across the Outer Rim. They say he never fails to bring back his quarry, dead or alive. He cannot be bought, bargained or reasoned with.”

“Yes. Well, reputation is everything in his trade.” Leia replied, then added quickly, “or so I’ve heard.”

“It does seem that there are too many connections for the theory to be ignored,” Mon offered. “We must take any threats to your safety very seriously from now on.”

“Yes,” Kreebe agreed. “If anything happened to you…we would carry on your legacy of course, but every step would be agony.”

Leia stared at the sycophantic cyborg again, a wariness in her eyes. “Does it seem strange to any of you that we haven’t seen any security personnel?”

“I sent the distress call,” Kreebe said, a bit defensively. “Perhaps the Noghri have cut communications.”

“They must have,” Leia turned around. “In fact. I’ve changed my mind. We should double back and head to the security station.” Pooja started to follow her, but Kreebe backed away.

“B-but Senator, we’re so close. The courtyard is just here-” He scrambled toward the doors, still partially ajar.

“No!” Leia shouted as he flung the doors open, bringing her blaster up.

The courtyard was empty except for the charred and smoking bodies Pooja’s grenade had left behind. Kreebe had thrown himself into the corner, but after a moment he dropped his arms and stared at the courtyard, his cybernetic eye blinking wildly.

“There’s the southern entrance,” Mon pointed it out. “The path is clear. I think we have to risk it.”

Leia nodded and took a deep breath. They moved slowly out into the courtyard. The smooth sea stones were scorched black from the explosion, the white pillars stained with gray.

“What a terrible ordeal,” Kreebe muttered. “And it’s far from over. Mark my words, Senator. This only the beginning. With this bounty hunter after you-”

“Enough.” Leia snapped. “Boba Fett is not hunting me. I don’t want to hear another word about it.”

“How can you be so sure?” Mon questioned.

“I-”

“Wait. Do you hear that?” Pooja pointed toward the opposite end of the courtyard where the doors to the lift waited. They all froze. “Blasters! It must be security!”

Mon turned back to Kreebe, expecting him to take credit, but the cyborg was backing away, his natural eye wide. There was something very wrong about all of this.

The doors splintered outward, and they all ran for cover as a bloody corpse burst through. It was Noghri, driven through the door by an armored man using a jetpack. The man landed on one knee, his rifle raised. His face was hidden by a battered combat helmet with a narrow t-shaped visor.

After a breathless pause, he stood and raised his rifle, dropping what was left of the Noghri to the ground. He was covered in blood and bits of matter that Mon didn’t particularly want to think about. She was still in such a state of shock that the only thing that truly registered was that under that visceral mess was an armor style that she recognized.

Mandalorian.

Pooja gave a choked cry but Leia pulled away from her. She ran straight to the blood-splattered figure and threw her arms around his neck, holding him in a fierce embrace.

She said something that Mon couldn’t hear, and then the man put a gloved hand on her back. Mon looked around, but Pooja and Kreebe seemed just as shocked by this turn of events.

Leia released the Mandalorian and turned to face them. “Chancellor Mon Mothma, Senator Pooja Naberrie, Senator Klo Kreebe...this is my husband. Boba Fett.”

The courtyard was completely silent, except for the slow drip of blood that fell from the man’s armor and splattered on the stone path. Mon could hardly formulate a sentence, which was not a state she found herself in often. “But…That’s not...We’ve spoken about your husband many times. _Many_ times. You told me…” _Everything_ . They must have had thousands of conversations in the past four years about Leia’s married life. Mon knew all of the ways that Leia’s parenting style differed from her husband’s, she knew about his picky eating habits and the time he didn’t know that _You, Naked_ was a famous play and the humorous misunderstanding that resulted from it. She knew about the arguments they had and all of the little things he did to apologize and the way Leia smiled and shook her head when she talked about him.

There was a person who had formed in her head, a quiet, devoted partner who supported Leia’s career choices but wanted to stay out of the spotlight. Not the ruthless, blood-drenched predator standing in front of her now.

“Everything but his name,” she said aloud, barely able to believe it. “I knew he was a bounty hunter. Now that I think about it, you even told me that used to work for the Empire.”

“I didn’t want to lie about it,” Leia said carefully. “I promised myself I wouldn’t. To be honest, I never expected to get away with it for this long.”

“Yes, well. You were quite masterfully evasive.”

“No wonder you never brought him to Naboo to meet the rest of your family,” Pooja said stiffly, her arms folded over her chest.

“The Mandalorians have a saying,” Leia returned, giving her cousin a hard look. “‘Family is more than blood.’”

“T-this is...this will be quite a scandal,” Kreebe stammered. “Even if you never lied...it will still reflect badly on you, being married to a...man of his...class.”

While she would never put it so tactlessly, Mon agreed with him. But Leia seemed unconcerned by this as she turned to address her husband. “That reminds me, did you see any security forces on your way in?”

“They’re still sitting on their asses in the security center. The Noghri looped the holocam feeds.”

“Did they cut off communications to the center?” 

“No. That would have set off the system alarms.” 

It was then that Mon caught the meaning of it. “Senator Kreebe…you said you were able to get a distress call in to the center. You said it was confirmed.” 

“I did...I mean I thought I did.” The cybrog drew himself up, but his voice wavered. “I don’t like what you’re implying, Chancellor.” 

Leia put a hand on her hip, glaring at Kreebe but speaking to Fett. “He also had the nerve to tell me that there was bounty on my head, and that you had been contracted to kill me.” 

The bounty hunter turned his head just slightly, aiming the t-shaped visor toward the cyborg. “Is that so.” His voice was low, the electronic filter adding a rough edge to it. 

Kreebe eyed him nervously. “My sources-” 

“We’ll need to talk about these _sources_ ,” Leia said, her expression scornful. “It’s one thing to try to scare me into backing away from the Vice Chair nomination, but to hire an entire squad of Noghri assassins seems like overkill.” 

The cyborg shuddered. “Y-uou can’t possibly think that I had anything to do with this. I’m a member of the Galactic Senate!” 

“I don’t think he’s the client,” Fett said in the flat tone. “But they might have the same employer. I found a holorecording on one of their bodies. The encryption is high-grade Imperial.” 

“The resurgence,” Leia frowned. “Why would they come after me now?” 

A chill ran down Mon’s back, and she gave Kreebe a hard look. If he was a traitor, she would see to it personally that he locked up for the rest of his miserable little life. “We have a number of excellent decryptionists in Coruscant. I’m sure they can crack the recording.” 

Fett lifted his helmet slightly, somehow managing to convey derision. “They can have it when I’m done with it.” Leia gave him a look, and his helmet lowered. “...Chancellor.” 

This was the part that made sense to her, the part that meshed with her previous mental image. Leia was a strong-willed woman and a natural leader. In order for her to happily married, her spouse had to be willing to stand down and follow her lead. And that gave her hope. Perhaps with the right strategy, this didn’t have to completely derail Leia’s career.

After all, her relationship with Han Solo originally caused quite a stir, but like all public relations it was a matter of presentation. Maybe with a handsome face and shiny new suit of armor, this terrible ordeal could be spun in Leia’s favor.

Mon folded her hands in front of her, sizing up the bounty hunter. “You’ve done the Republic a great service by helping to uncover this conspiracy, Master Fett. Not to mention your very...effective rescue tactics. You should be rewarded for your efforts. I don’t suppose you’d like a medal?”

“No,” he said at the same time as Leia. She covered her mouth briefly and indicated that he should finish.

“If you want to reward me,” Fett said evenly, “my preference is credits.”

“That’s a shame, although not much of a surprise.” She looked to Leia, trying to drop a subtle hint. “I do love a good award ceremony, and they make such marvelous holos for the press.” 

“As much as we appreciate the thought,” Leia said, “It’s out of the question.” 

The bounty hunter nodded once in agreement. “My interest in the affairs of the Republic extends as far as Leia’s safety, and no further. In my business, it’s better not to be seen as taking sides.” 

Mon arched an eyebrow at him. “Is this a recent stance? Your previous service to the Empire would indicate otherwise.” 

“I took jobs posted by Darth Vader and other imperial agents because I knew they could pay. If you want my services, make an offer.” 

“I see.” It was a pity she couldn’t persuade him by more economical means, but it was still an opportunity to give him _some_ measure of respectability within the Republic. “Is it necessary to post such an offer on the galactic network, or may I make the offer to you in person?” 

“Go ahead.” 

“Once we land in Coruscant, Senator Kreebe will be placed under arrest on suspicion of conspiracy and possibly treason.” 

“Mon Mothma-” The cyborg protested, but she silenced him with a warning gesture. “I would like to ensure that he makes that appointment, and I feel certain you have the facilities aboard your ship to transport him.” 

“I do,” Fett turned slightly toward Kreebe, who practically _quivered_ with fear. “Under the circumstances, it would be my pleasure.” 

“I don’t ask you to do it out of pleasure. The Republic will pay for your time and service.” She looked sternly into the visor of his helmet. “I trust that he will be safely delivered into custody.” 

He inclined his head just slightly. “As you wish, Chancellor.”

Leia looked at Mon, and then at her husband. She hadn’t figured it out yet, but she would.

The bounty hunter tossed a pair of binders to Kreebe, and they clattered down over the stones at his feet. “Put them on,” Fett said, a dark threat in his tone. “Or I’ll do it for you.”

The cyborg slowly bent to retrieve them, his face drawn and gray. “Mon, please...we’ve been colleagues for seven years…” 

“And as your colleague of seven years, I advise you to say nothing without your legal advisor present. You will have your chance to explain yourself in court.” She turned her back on him and started towards the south gate. “I still think an award ceremony would have been brilliant,” she murmured to Leia. 

Leia shook her head, and tucked a wild strand of hair behind her ear. “Why don’t you get a medal?” Fett questioned as he pushed Kreebe forward. “Half these bodies are yours.” 

“Actually, these are Pooja’s. The ones on the third floor are mine, not that I’ll ever say so on the record. It’s not very senator-like to throw grenades.” 

“Sadly not,” Pooja agreed. She paused on the path, and Mon stopped as well. “We could just all agree to keep quiet about it. About-” her eyes cut between Leia and Fett. “No one else has to know.” 

“I would be more than happy to come an agreement-” Kreebe started, but the bounty hunter cut him off.

“Silence.”

Mon looked to Leia again, wondering if she understood how much she stood to lose. The fact that she was married to a bounty hunter, and one that famously worked for the Empire would be constantly used against her in an election. Her opinion on every issue of intergalactic law would be called into question, because how could she claim to support planetary authority when her husband made a living operating outside of it? And oh gods, if they hadn’t separated their finances-

“No,” Leia replied firmly. “If I ask you to keep quiet now then I’m involving you in a cover up, and it’s ticking time bomb from there on out.” She looked up at her husband.

“Boba?” 

“I know what I signed up for.” 

“Thank you.” Her expression softened, unmistakable affection in her eyes. Perhaps it was an ethical decision or perhaps it was a sentimental one, but Mon would always stand by her friend’s judgement when it came to people. If she believed this man was worth the trouble, then he must be.

Fett nudged Kreebe with his rifle, guiding him to the lift. Leia started to follow, but Pooja reached out with her hand, stopping just short of touching her arm. “Leia, I don’t know if I can-”

Leia turned to face her, her voice low. “When we first found out that we were cousins, you told me that you didn’t care who my father was. You said we would always be family.” She paused and looked Pooja in the eye. “Boba and our sons are my family, and anyone who claims me as family claims them as well.” 

Her cousin gave her pained look. “They’ll never elect you to the Vice Chair position if you go public with this.” 

“Maybe not this time,” Leia replied, not with resignation but with strength. “But the galaxy is changing, Pooja. The outer rim systems have more influence than they ever had in the old Republic. The day might come when the old guard stops setting the standards for the rest of us. And then it might not be such a scandal to be a bounty hunter’s wife.” 

Perhaps she did understand, at least somewhat. “Ladies,” Mon said, indicating the waiting lift. “We should be going.” 

Leia moved forward, lifting the ragged hem of her gown as she boarded the lift. The front of the gown was streaked with blood and there was a bloody handprint on her back. “That dress is ruined,” Pooja noted.

Leia glanced down at it and shrugged as she took her place beside her husband. “I never liked it anyway.”  



	3. Tatooine Part I

The prompt was for[ Chapter 3 of _Meeting Like This_](http://archiveofourown.org/works/595493/chapters/1072901) from Fett's POV. Rated M. 

* * *

 

Jabba the Hutt was nothing if not easily bored. Between the music and laughter and the occasional drunken brawl, the halls of his palace were rarely quiet. At this particular moment, however, no one laughed. No one spoke. No one  _ moved _ . The only sound other than the terrified panting of the creatures cowering in the throne room was the shrieking alarm of a thermal detonator.

Boba Fett kept his rifle trained on the Unbanese bounty hunter holding the device. He could pull the trigger and drop the hunter in a second, but that counted on someone being quick enough and brave enough to grab the detonator before it hit the ground. Not a strong possibility, in this crowd. It was better to wait and assume that this barve was bargaining, not suicidal. 

Jabba began to laugh, a deep “ho, ho, ho” that broke the fearful silence. “This bounty hunter is my kind of scum,” the hutt chortled. “Fearless and inventive.” He made a counter offer in Huttese, and the protocol droid translated.

“Jabba offers you the sum of thirty-five thousand. And I do suggest you take it.”

The hunter gave it a second of thought and then slowly eased the detonator’s pin back. “ _ Zeebuss _ .”

The room erupted into raucous cheers. As the guards moved forward to take charge of the prisoner, Fett took a second look at the hunter. He wore the garb and helmet of a bounty hunter named Boushh, but Boushh was taller and more calculating. He preferred to stay in the shadows. 

There was also that fact that he was here to collect on the bounty for Solo’s wookiee first mate, Chewbacca. Fett’s gaze moved to the carbonite slab hanging on the wall. Bringing Captain Solo here had taken considerable time and effort, thanks to the efforts of the wookiee and the rebel leader Princess Leia Organa. For Chewbacca to be captured now seemed like too much of a coincidence.

His attention returned to the bounty hunter, who seemed to be looking straight at him. He inclined his head, but the hunter didn’t approach him. After a moment he turned away, following Jabba’s twi’lek majordomo, Bib Fortuna. Fett watched him go, unable to shake the sense that something wasn’t right.

 

* * *

 

He knew something was up before he even reached his room. No one said anything to him, but no one ever did. It just a few appraising glances here, a few snickers there. It set his teeth on edge.

Jabba had been so enthralled by the infiltration of Leia Organa masquerading as a bounty hunter, he decided to allow her to release the smuggler from the carbonite. Fett disapproved and said so, but Jabba couldn’t resist putting on a show. 

And since Solo didn’t have the common courtesy to die from the shock, now Jabba was busy planning his next big show, the smuggler’s execution. The princess was taken prisoner, and Jabba had already announced that she would take Oola’s place as his new pet. That was also a bad idea, but Fett was done giving advice.

He just wanted to sleep,  _ alone _ , something the Hutt knew but repeatedly ignored for the sake of his own amusement and the palace betting pool. As Fett reached his door, he wondered what slave or dancer had been given the miserable task of trying to seduce him. They never sent the same one twice. 

One particular suspicion gnawed at him, because it fit Jabba’s sense of drama, not mention his relish for punishing and degrading his enemies. Fett opened the door. He wasn’t surprised to see Leia Organa was sitting on his bed. 

Her bounty hunter attire was gone, replaced by a skimpy harem outfit and gold jewelry. There was a metal collar around her slender neck, and the chain hanging from it was locked on to the headboard.

“We have to stop meeting like this,” she said with a grim smile. 

“You should have taken my advice,” he said as he shut the door behind him. “I told you to find better friends.”

“And I told you I was coming after you. I realize loyalty is a foreign concept to someone like you, but I would never abandon Han.”

He didn’t bother to hide his contempt. “Because you  _ love _ him.”   


“Is that so hard to believe?”

“I believe you. I've heard you say it twice now.” He removed his helmet and laid it on the table. “Was the plan really to have you strut in here with a thermal detonator and then slip out quietly with one of Jabba's most prized possessions?”   


“I don't have to explain my actions to you.” She was so perfectly cool, so calm and collected. There could be a larger plan at work here. Leia Organa was hardly a minor figure in the rebellion, she would have resources at her disposal.

Maybe she would feel more like talking if she wasn’t tethered like an animal. He walked over and ran his hand up the chain to the collar. “Hold still.” A laser lockpick from his belt opened it easily, and he let it clatter to the floor. He looked down at the captive princess, trying to decide whether scaring her or taunting her would be the most effective. “Do you know what Jabba is going to do to you?”

A muscle jumped in her jaw. “I don't plan to stay long enough to find out.”   


“Someone's going to come blasting in to save the princess?” When she didn’t respond, he continued with disgust. “You and Solo are perfectly matched. A pair of reckless, delusional fools.”   


Anger flashed in her dark eyes. “And what are you? A boot-licking lackey for scum like Vader and Jabba. You'll never be half the man Han Solo is.”   


She wasn’t going to make this easy. “Are you hungry?” He went to the wall compartment to retrieve his dinner.    


“A little.” 

He took two ration bars out and handed one to her. She frowned, turning it over in her hand. Did she think it was drugged? He tore open the wrapper of his and bit into it.

“Look,” she said after a minute or two of silence. “You like to be direct, I like to be direct. Can we just get this over with?”

“Get what over with?”    


Color crept up into her cheeks as she glanced at the bed. “You know what. I was sent here as a gift. A reward from Jabba.”   


It surprised him, and he didn’t like surprises. He chewed and swallowed the last of his bar, taking his time. “If Jabba wants to reward me, my preference is credits. I don't force myself on slave girls.” He reached for his canteen and washed the last of his dinner down. He would have offered some to her, but her bar was still untouched, clutched tightly in her hand.   


“I didn't think you did,” she said carefully, like she was trying not to offend him. “But it's not that simple. I was told...I have to. If I don't have sex with you, Jabba will kill me.”

He didn’t doubt that she was told that. He unhooked his rifle so he could sit comfortably in one of the chairs and stretched out his legs. “He probably won't kill you. At least not until he's had his fun with you.”   


Some of the color drained from her cheeks. “You really don't have a shred of compassion in you, do you?”   


“I don't waste compassion on people who blunder into situations they could have easily avoided.”   


Her eyes narrowed. “It's just sex. A few minutes of your time. Maybe less.”   


He gave her a cold look, ready to end this conversation. “I suggest you make use of the bed, rest while you can, and eat something. Jabba doesn't always remember to feed his pets.”

Her hands closed into fists. “At least tell me why. The outfit doesn't do it for you?”   


He met her challenging gaze and then gave her body a long, deliberate perusal. She was an attractive young woman and a few tacky bits of cloth and metal did nothing to change that. She would probably look even better without them. 

Fuck. Now was not the time for his dick get hard. “No,” he said with as much indifference as he could, “it’s not the outfit.”   


Something flickered in her eyes, some hint of recognition that made him feel uncomfortable and exposed. “Put your collar back on,” he ordered. Thanks to Jabba’s twisted sense of humor he was going to be sleeping in a hard chair, and that was enough to kill his arousal.   


“What? Why?”   


“Because I'm tired,” he replied, making a sharp-edged attempt at honesty. “You don't have to sleep, but as long as you're chained to the bed, maybe I can.”

She looked around doubtfully. “Where are you going to sleep?”

“I'll manage.” He removed the bulk of his armor and weaponry, packing it into his case. When he finished, Leia Organa was still sitting on the bed, her arms crossed. The collar was still on the floor. “Put it back on.”

She ignored the command, keeping her eyes on him. “I'm not really good at this,” she conceded, “but I think we've established that it's not the attire you find unattractive, or women in general. What is it about  _ me  _ you don't like?”

Fett walked over and picked up the collar himself. His patience was running short. “I don't like the idea of you grudgingly spreading your legs and thinking about some worthless smuggler.”

He brought the collar up to her throat, but she jumped to her feet and side-stepped away from him. “You really think you're so much better than him,” she said contemptuously. “Your delusion is pathetic. At least Han doesn't sell his services to the highest bidder!”   


“Captain Solo did  _ exactly _ that, for years before you made him a rebel hero.” He grabbed her arm and yanked her back so hard she fell into him. “Jabba pays dozens of spice runners like him so he can keep his palace and his pretty slave girls. And when they try to cheat him and run, Jabba pays me to find them.” He leaned down menacingly, his face close to hers. “I know who I am and what I do. But I also know men like Han Solo. I know them much better than you ever will.”

Her eyes flickered down to his mouth. Before he could even fully realize what was happening, she pulled his head down and pressed her lips to his. 

His shock was almost immediately replaced with fury. There was no fucking way he was going to let some soft little princess from the core fluster him with a kiss. He stepped into it, crushing her mouth with his.  _ She _ was the half-naked captive here. She should be  _ afraid _ of him. He had every advantage. She had  _ nothing _ .

He was leaning into her with enough force that when he let go, she almost fell. “Enough?” 

“I’ll let you know,” she said, and pulled his head down again.

Nothing except a will of iron, and sharp little teeth dragging along his lower lip.

_ Fierfek _ . 

She  _ would _ back down. He was sure of it. At some point she would decide that fucking someone she hated wasn’t worth it. Maybe when her back hit the mattress. Maybe when he started removing her clothing. He kept waiting for her break, to push him off, to snatch the silky bits of fabric back.

It wasn’t until the last of his own clothing dropped to the floor he realized he might have been wrong. 

And now he had a problem. There was a very attractive woman sprawled out of his bed, naked except for her soft leather boots. He put one knee on the bed between her legs, and she looked up at him, a bright flush in her cheeks. She said nothing. 

His pulse raced as he leaned over her, his hand followed the curve of her leg all the way up to her waist. The  _ tits _ on this woman. They fit perfectly into his hands, soft and rounded with firm pink tips. He ducked his head and licked one, and she inhaled sharply, squirming under him when he gathered the nipple into his mouth. 

“Don’t, she moaned, grasping at his shoulders. Her nails dug into his skin, trying to draw him up against her. He moved up and spread her legs, finding his place. He was shaking from the adrenaline that rushed through his veins, a brutal reminder that he hadn’t done this in at least five years, and possibly six. He couldn’t be entirely sure it wasn’t seven.

What he  _ was  _ sure of was that he’d never been harder in his life. He could feel the heat coming off her skin and the way she smelled... _ fierfek _ . He shifted and pushed into her, and the raw shock and pleasure of it reverberated through his entire body.

Oh,  _ fuck _ . 

There was no point in trying to pretend otherwise. He’d lost and lost badly, but he thrust into her again, as hard and as deep as he could and his recrimination was lost. She pulled his head down roughly and kissed him, wrapping her legs around his hips. He followed her lead, rocking into her with a little more restraint as they fell into rhythm. 

Her eyes closed and her hands grasped the sheets about her head. She never stopped moving, squirming and twisting, creating an uneven friction that nearly drove him insane. No wonder Solo was willing to follow her to Hoth. 

Godsdamnit. The last thing he wanted to do was think about her fucking the smuggler, but not even that thought could keep him from coming.  A shudder wracked his body as he lurched forward, pressing his face into the curve of her throat as he shot into her.

His world went dark. His own harsh breathing filled his ears, with her short, gasping breaths just beneath it. His heart was still pounding, his blood was still humming, but reality was waiting for him. Just like always. 

“ _ Fierfek _ ,” he muttered aloud.

The princess stiffened. “Excuse me?”

“It wasn’t directed at you.” He pulled himself up. “Can I get you anything? Water?”

“No, thank you.” 

He went to the ‘fresher. He could wash her off his skin, but the real damage was done. It was too late to grab his armor and get the hell out. Because if Jabba thought he was displeased, the princess would be punished for it. Whatever happened to her now, he had a part in it. 

By the time he returned to the bed, she was asleep, curled up on her side with the sheet covering her and her fists tucked under chin. He stepped over her discarded boots, and circled around the bed to locate the chain and collar. Maybe if he got some rest he would be able to think this whole thing through and find a way out. 

She stirred, her eyes following him under heavy lids. When she saw the collar in his hand she jerked upright. “Wait,” she said, edging away from him. “You don’t need that.”

“I could tie you to the bed, if you would prefer that.”

“I would not.” She narrowed her eyes at him. “I just want to sleep. Can’t we call a truce?” 

Fett did a mental survey in his mind of everything in the room that could used to harm him while he slept. His armor and weapons were locked up. There were no sharp objects, no electronics that could be easily dismantled. And generally speaking, a cooperative captive was safer than a hostile one.

The princess seemed to take his silence as assent. She laid down with her back to him and exhaled loudly as she settled. He knelt on the bed, leaning over her. “Try to leave this bed-”

“Oh for the force’s sake,” she said scornfully. “What am I going to do? Smother you with a pillow?”

He hadn’t considered the pillows. He yanked hers out from under her head and dropped it on the floor along with his own.

“Hey,” she protested, twisting around. “You bastard!”

“You’re idea. Not mine.” He laid down beside her, and she huffily turned back to the wall. He put his arm over her waist so he would be sure to wake if she tried to leave. She ignored it. After a few minutes her breathing evened out, and he finally allowed himself to relax.

 

* * *

 

It was five or six hours later when he woke up, momentarily confused by the presence of someone else in his bed.  He lifted his head up as much he dared and looked at the sleeping woman beside him. She didn’t stir, so he laid his head back down. For reasons that weren’t entirely clear to him, he didn’t want to wake her. He listened to the faint sounds of the palace rising. The muffled footsteps in the hall, the occasional clatter or crash. Some cursing. The screech of instruments being tuned and then finally, strains of music.  

Leia Organa stirred and grimaced. “That damn band,” she muttered. “Don’t they know any other songs?”

“They do. But that song is Jabba's favorite.”

“Oh, great,” she grumbled, and then she yawned. She didn’t act like a woman who was horrified by her present circumstances. Did she question her actions the previous night? Did she regret it?   


“They're warming up. He won't be awake for at least another hour.”   


“Oh,” she said drowsily, and snuggled back down into the bed. Maybe she didn’t regret it. She got what she wanted from him, and as long as that was all she wanted, he had no reason to resent being used. 

It seemed reasonable enough. Especially when he had raging morning erection and she was right there with her soft skin and perfect tits. Why not keep things simple? If she believed she had to fuck him to stay in Jabba’s good graces he was more than willing to provide fresh physical evidence that she’d done exactly that. He spread his hand over her waist and pulled her back against him, figuring that this was the most straightforward way to offer. He moved his hand up to her breast and felt her nipple tighten in response.  _ Fierfek _ . If he was hard before…

“Oh.” She drew in a shuddering breath, but when he bent his head to kiss the back of her neck she stiffened. 

He pulled back, giving her a little space. “You can move away, Princess. I won’t stop you.”

She didn’t move, but her shoulders were still tight. “Could you please stop calling me that? My royal title isn't worth spit these days.”   


“How would you like to be addressed?”   


“Just call me 'Leia.”   


“Leia,” he repeated politely. First name basis. That seemed like a good sign. He moved his hand from her breast, tracing a line with his finger down to her stomach. This time he wanted to touch her first. Get her good and wet. Find out what she liked. “Staying or going?”   


“Am I allowed to the leave the bed now?”   


“Yes.”

She put her hand over his, holding it against her belly as she twisted around to face him. “Going. For now. I really need to use the ‘fresher.”

“Then you'll come back?” 

“That depends.” She raised an eyebrow at him. “How does this work? Do you return me, or will Jabba send guards to bring me back?”

“He'll send guards.”

His answer seemed to unnerve her. “Do you...do this a lot?”

He thought about telling her about the betting pool, but talking seemed like a waste of time when they could be engaged in other activities. He shook his head and tried to slide his hand a little further down. “You never answered my question.”

She pressed her lips together briefly, considering. “If you ask Jabba, would he let you have me again tonight?”

Fett pulled his hand away. So much for keeping things simple. “I thought you weren't sticking around.”   


“I don't know how long I'll be here,” she admitted. “And I don't want to be given to anyone else. If you tell him you want me again, then I'm all yours, right? No one one else touches me.”   


“You catch on fast.”   


Leia shrugged and smiled modestly. “It's a gangster's den, not the Galactic Senate. Will you do it?”   


Jabba would want something in return. Definitely not simple. He pulled himself up on one elbow. “What's in it for me?”   


Color crept into her cheeks. “That's sort of obvious, isn't it?”   


“I want information.”

“That's not a euphemism, is it?” She was still smiling at him. “What do you want to know?”   


“This 'plan' of yours to rescue Solo. What happens next?”   


The smile vanished, but she held his gaze without waivering. “I think it's customary in your business to provide service before payment, isn't it?”   


The corner of his mouth pulled up in amusement. “Let's call it half up front.”   


“That really should be a euphemism.” She leaned towards him as if sharing a secret. “I wasn't born yesterday, Fett. Talk to Jabba, make him understand that I'm only for you, and I'll tell you what comes next.”   


He was starting to like her. And on a scale of stupidity, liking her might even rank above having sex with her. He gave his agreement with a single nod, his mind already moving forward to how such a thing could be accomplished. He barely noticed when she left the bed and headed for the ‘fresher.

The door chimed, announcing the arrival of Jabba’s guards. Leia froze uncertainly. Fett sat up and reached for his clothes. “Go,” he told her. “They’ll wait.”

 

* * *

 

Jabba was in a good mood. No, Jabba was a  _ fantastic _ mood, having finally won the betting pool at odds that probably bankrupted half of his peons. “I knew you would like her,” he chortled as Fett approached him. “We’re the same, you and I. High class taste.”

The only thing Fett could taste at that moment was bile. “My thanks,” he said formally.

“No thanks needed, my boy. You came through for me. First with Solo...and now with his woman.”

“She’s not his usual type.”

“A princess! And important to the rebellion as well!”

“As a figurehead.” It was better to minimize her role for now. “She’s one of the last survivors of Alderaan.”

“Ahh.” Jabba narrowed his eyes a little. “Vozbat is from Alderaan, is he not? Maybe I should give him a chance with her.”

Vozbat was a sweaty sleezeball who specialized in black market sex holos. His biggest seller was some kind of gore fetish where the wings were pulled off of female insectoids. Fett would happily slit the man’s throat before he let him lay a finger on Leia. It was a realization didn’t sit comfortably with him. 

“She might be more trouble than she’s worth,” he told Jabba. “She’s wanted by the Empire. If Vader finds out she’s here-”

“I know, I know.” Jabba waved a stubby hand. “I won’t keep her for long.” His yellow eyes shifted towards Fett. “Maybe you would like to have her, when I’m finished?” 

“Are you offering me a broken toy?” 

Jabba laughed. “If the price is right, the condition will match. Say...twenty-five thousand.”

“I could buy ten slaves for that.”

“But you don’t want ten common slaves,” Jabba weedled. “You want one very special princess.”

“No female slave is worth more than five thousand. She’s small and she’s undernourished. Wouldn't bring more than that at an auction.”   


“She's royalty,” Jabba countered reproachfully. “That ups the price. And she doesn't need to be strong for what you want her for.”   


As the hutt spoke Bib Fortuna was leading Leia into the throne room by the chain on her collar. One of the peons lurking the shadows made a mocking grab for her ass and she sidestepped him with a dirty look. 

“Her title isn't worth spit,” Fett continued, ignoring her approach. “I'm not as rich as you. I can't afford to keep a pleasure slave who can't earn her keep in other ways.”

Fortuna handed off Leia's chain to Jabba, and he tugged her closer. “Fett, my boy, you have to think creatively.” The Hutt swiped a hand at Leia, and she moved to avoid him. “She's young and healthy. You can breed her many times and sell her children.”   


Leia stiffened, her face a mask. It hadn’t occurred to Fett until that moment that she might understand huttese. Jabba, however, didn’t seem to notice. He jerked on the chain, dragging the princess closer. “Droid, translate this for my little pet Princess.”

The golden protocol droid hurried forward, but Fett ignored him, keeping his attention on Jabba as he spoke.

“You have pleased the great hunter Boba Fett, and in doing so, pleased me. I have not had the pleasure of getting to know you yet, but will soon enough. For now, you will bring me pleasure as you thank Boba Fett for sharing his bed with you. Get on your knees.”

The droid was still stumbling through the last of translation as Jabba jerked on the chain again, and Leia stumbled forward. Her face was white. Onlookers crowded closer as Fortuna pushed her down on her knees. 

Fett grabbed her chin and forced two fingers roughly down her throat. She gagged, her teeth clamping down. He withdrew his fingers and hit her across the face, hard enough that she nearly fell backwards. She raised a shaking hand and pressed it to her cheek.

He flexed his hand and turned to face Jabba. “I'm not sticking anything else in her mouth, and I won't pay more for a skinny little nexu like her. Take it or leave it.”   


A few of the audience members vocalized their disappointment, a sentiment Jabba clearly shared. “She needs a lot of training,” he conceded, “but I have to keep her until Captain Solo regains his sight. His little princess is going please my entire court, and I'm going to make that piece of bantha fodder watch.”

If Fett had any doubts about whether Leia understood huttese, the way she dropped her eyes to the floor at that moment laid them to rest. 

“But since you like her so much, Fett, my boy, she's yours while you're here. Day and night.”   


“A generous offer,” he said, inclining his head. “I accept.”   


“You must be eager to make her pay for biting you,” Jabba’s eyes gleamed.  “I could loan you a whip, if you want.”   


“No, thank you.” He looked down at her, kneeling on the floor with her hand still pressed to her cheek. There was recognition in her steady gaze. He’d done what she asked. It was time to get paid. “I have other ways to deal with her.”   
  
  


 


	4. Truth

[Chapter 4 of _With You_](http://archiveofourown.org/works/5885860/chapters/13904031), so this one features Luke Skywalker and my original character Dyrk Veet. Rated T. 

* * *

 

 

“ _Haar’chak_.” After hours of the skyhopper’s violent vibration, Dyrk’s legs fiercely protested the return to solid ground.

“Yeah,” Luke agreed,  “Ouch.” He winced as he took a few careful steps forward. “There’s a bar. You want to get a drink?”

“Not yet. I need to move. Let’s go up there.” He pointed out a walkway that ran high over the crowded street. Luke shrugged and staggered forward, and Dyrk followed. He hoped the discomfort of walking would keep the other man distracted for a little while.

Tricky business, seducing a Jedi. Luke would notice any kind of strong emotion, and suppressing it only made it worse. Dyrk had worked out that the best way to keep his intentions private was to acknowledge them openly in his mind, and then try not to think too much about the possible outcomes.

Because tonight was the night. He was going to kiss Luke Skywalker, and nothing short of the heat death of the universe could stop him.

They rode the lift up to the second level and by the time they reached the bridge they were both walking with more ease. The sun was setting, but the waning light was barely noticeable. This was a casino city, with bright lights that filled the sky at dusk. They followed the walkway a few hundred feet before Luke stopped to watch the crowds on the street below. “Can you read that sign?”

Dyrk squinted at the nightclub’s neon symbols. “Maybe if I had my helmet. It’s not Huttese?”

“No.” Luke tapped his fingers restlessly on the railing. He seemed distracted. Maybe he could sense Dyrk’s nervousness after all. Was he waiting for Dyrk to make his move, or was he looking for a way out?

 _Osik_. Dyrk leaned on the railing beside him, desperately seeking a distraction. “Twi’lek show, maybe. What is it about twi’lek’s? Get a few that are reasonably good dancers and you can open a club and charge twice as much for drinks.”

“I don’t know.” Luke checked his commlink, and then looked back at Dyrk with a slightly apologetic grimace. “I haven’t heard from Leia since Fett was discharged from the Med Center.”

Dyrk relaxed a little. Of course Luke would be thinking about his sister.

“She said she was taking him somewhere quiet.”

“She’s probably busy. I’ll bet he’s not an easy patient.”

Luke drifted along the walkway a few more steps. “I feel like I pushed her too hard.”

“You’re her family. Someone in your family up and gets married all of asudden, you have a right to be concerned.”

“It’s not just about that.” Luke took a cautious look around before continuing. “The Force is strong in Leia, too. But she refuses to accept it, or learn about it, or use it.” He gripped the railing, his knuckles white. “The thing is, I think she _has_ used it. I think she used it to save his life. And that scares me. Because if she uses the Force selfishly to achieve her own wants and desires, it could lead her to the Dark Side.”

Dyrk shifted, wondering if this was part of Luke’s anxiety about relationships. “She used it to protect someone she loves. What’s bad about that?”

“The Force is a powerful ally, but I can’t just use it as I please. If I use it carelessly, without considering the consequences...I could cause a lot of damage.”

After a moment of indecision, Dyrk put his hand on the middle of Luke’s back, rubbing it lightly. Now he sort of wished they’d gone for a drink first. He moved closer to Luke, and his hand slid down to the other man’s waist.

Luke turned his head toward him, a little tinge of red in his cheeks that made Dyrk’s blood run hot. “You’re...uh...you want to do this now?”

“I won,” he reminded the Jedi, not that he thought he needed to. It wasn’t so long ago that theywere in that tapcafe on Concordia and Luke insisted that his sister had finally called it quits with Boba Fett. On a whim driven by nothing more than instinct and a lot of ale, Dyrk offered a wager to the contrary. _I’m willing to make it interesting if you are_ , he told Luke, who turned the exact same shade of red as he was now. _Bet me a kis_ s.

And now here they were at the crucial moment, the point where Luke could try to laugh it off and say he was joking, or drunk. “I’m going to kiss you,” Dyrk said, just to give him fair warning. “I’m just trying to be smooth about it.”

Luke’s mouth quirked upward, teasing him. “This is smooth?”

Dyrk moved closer, his heartbeat now a thundering roar. “It’s sunset and we’re alone on a balcony. Sort of. Look, I’m doing the best that I can.” He touched Luke’s cheek, and then finally, _finally_ kissed that teasing mouth.

He wasn’t planning to use his tongue, but Luke’s lips parted almost immediately and he wasn’t a man to let opportunity go by. They blew past the time limit for “friendly kiss” and “first date kiss” and ran right up to the point where “lingering kiss” met the “fuck me now kiss.”

And that was where Dyrk forced himself to draw back. “ _Osik_.” His hands were shaking. “Moment of truth, Jedi.”

Luke slowly opened his eyes, but his gaze was unfocused. Confused.

Dyrk waited, but he didn’t speak. “Hey,” he said, swallowing his own disappointment. “It’s okay, Luke. You get points for trying. There’s some lucky girl out there-”

“It’s not that.” Luke said abruptly. “I...I told you how Leia and I were raised by different families, right?”

“Right…”

“We kissed once. Before we...knew.”

Well, this was...an interesting turn of events. “ _Osik_.”

Luke nodded in grim remembrance. “I thought I loved her. I wanted her to pick me over Han. But I never really thought beyond that. We kissed, but it wasn’t like I wanted to…” He made a face. “...Something that I am now extremely grateful for. What I’m trying to say is, the way you look at me, the feelings you have for me...I’ve never felt that way. About anyone, male or female.”

Dyrk stared at him for a moment. “You know you’re allowed to pass. You don’t have to do the whole ‘it’s not you’ thing.”

“I’m not,” Luke insisted. “It’s not you. It’s me.” He looked down at the crowds milling around below them. “You like me, but you also _want_ me. You want to have physical contact with me. You want to touch me. You want to kiss me. You want to…”

Dyrk knew he should be paying attention to what Luke was saying, but hearing him utter the words ‘you want to touch me” was pulling his attention in a different direction. “I _want_ to get you against that wall, get on my knees and make you renounce your religion. For a start.”

A ghost of a smile touched Luke’s face. “I like you. I really enjoy being with you.” He took a step back. “To be honest, I don’t know exactly what I want yet, but...I don’t think we want the same thing.”

It wasn’t easy to look past his own disappointment, but Dyrk had always been a pragmatist. Luke was either naturally disinclined towards a sexual relationship or so thoroughly repressed that he couldn’t imagine one. In either case, the safest bet was to say goodbye, go get thoroughly drunk and find a willing partner for several days of debauched, what-could-have-been sex.

But when he looked at Luke, staring miserably down at the street, he couldn’t do it.

 _Haar’chak_ . All this started with a very uncomplicated desire to see if he could sweet talk a cute Jedi out of his robes. He never expected it to go beyond casual sex, and now he was actually contemplating a relationship _without_ sex. It would have been totally kriffing crazy if he didn’t like Luke so much. “All right,” he said. “I accept that you’re not going to fuck me. What if I still want to be with you?”

Luke blinked at him. “You deserve to be with someone-”

“Don’t-” Dyrk cut him off, not particularly in the mood for platitudes. “Don’t do that.” There was a long, tense pause. “Let’s keep it simple. Say I’m by Coruscant in a few weeks. Should I comm you?”

“Sure, if you want to.”

“Then we take it from there.” _Haar’chak_. What the hell was he doing? He really needed that drink now. “How about that place down there?” He said, nodding at a dive bar a few buildings over. “I bet they don’t overcharge for drinks.”

Luke looked. “You probably get contamination poisoning for free,” he deadpanned. “That’s a real bargain.”

“Picky, picky. How about there?”

A shrug. “Sure. They might wash their glasses.”

Dyrk pushed off the railing. “Right. Let’s get blasted.”

 


	5. Names

[Chapter 4 of _Never Explicitly Stated_](http://archiveofourown.org/works/1157107/chapters/9721620) from Fett's POV. Rated M. 

* * *

 

 

The door closed behind them, and the nightvision sensor in his helmet flipped, illuminating the dark hotel room in in shades of gray and green. Leia reached for his hand, but he brushed her off and went in search of the ‘fresher.

“Come on,” Leia said to his back. “It wasn’t that bad.”

He didn’t stop. He needed a fucking shower.

“Lights on.” She said, and then with a sharp note of impatience. “Boba.”

He paused in the doorway to the bedroom. “Yes?”

“Can you see the control panel?”

“Yes.”

“Am I missing something? Where are the lights?”

“Looks like an ordinary sensor to me. Move your hand in front of it.”

“I tried that,” she snapped. “But I don’t have infrared vision, so why don’t you come over here and try it?”

The shower was only a few steps away and he was not in mood to play handyman. “Call the front desk, Maybe it’s broken.”

“You call the front desk. I can’t see where the comm panel is, and you can probably patch in from your helmet.”

He could, but that would mean talking to another Coruscanti asshole who would probably want to talk to Leia anyway. “The comm panel is directly under the lights,” he told her and turned back to the bedroom. “No lights in here either. How much did you pay for this room?”

The ‘fresher was all smooth tile and hidden fixtures. There was a large tub built into one wall, and a shower on the opposite side of the room. He tapped a few buttons, but no water appeared. _Fierfek_. He caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror, his battered armor and helmet incongruously framed by the gleaming golden frame.

His armor was a significant concession on Leia’s part, since the customary attire for dinner parties in the core tended to be less...lethal. Fett had no interest in their customs. As far as Leia’s Coruscant acquaintances and co-workers were concerned, he was nothing more than the exotic pet of someone they needed to curry political favor with.

Mon Mothma was the only one who spoke to him directly. The rest talked around him, addressing their politely pointed questions to Leia. _How long have the two of you been married? Oh, that long? I had no idea. A quiet wedding. Well, that’s nice, isn’t it? Large weddings are such a bother._

A sharp crack from the main room shattered his reverie, followed by a cry that sent him immediately into motion. He expected the worst, but when he reached the main room there was no assailant, no heat signatures from a weapon. Leia was curled up the floor beside a low table with a cracked shale top. She gave a half-gasp, half-sob of pain, and Fett dropped one knee beside her. “Leia? Where-”

“Leg. R-r-right leg.”

He jerked her skirts up, looking for blood. “Didn’t break the skin,” He reported, his pulse finally slowing back down to normal. “You’ll probably have a nasty bruise.”

“Hurts...like...the devil…”

“Hold on.” He dug into a pocket and quickly located one of his emergency stim shots. “This is a combo shot, stim and painkiller. It works fast, but doesn’t last long.” He straightened her arm and injected it into her vein. “Count to ten,” he said as he folded her arm up. He sat on the floor, pulling her into his lap and holding her close.

“One,” she groaned. “Two.” A pause. “What the hell did I run into?”

“A low table with a stone top. You kicked it in half.”

“I think that was more me falling on it.”

“Nothing else hurts?”

“No.” She fidgeted. “Godsdamnit, you could at least take your bracers off before I end up with a nerve dart embedded in my back.” The dart function was disabled, but he removed them anyway and laid them aside.

“You could also take off your breastplate.”

He exhaled. “Get up and I will.”

She turned, straddling his thighs. “Just take it all off.” Her hands were unfastening his belt. It should have occurred to him that the emergency shots were calibrated for his height and weight, not hers. “That was too big a dose for you.”

“Shut up,” she responded fiercely  “I’m tired, I’m angry, and yes, I’m a little high. So what?” She grabbed his wrist and guided his hand up to the back of his helmet. He pressed his thumb into the lock, and she yanked his helmet off with both hands and threw it across the room.

“Leia,” he said, but she was already pushing him down to the floor, her mouth hot and hungry against his. Nothing about this was a good idea, but the alternative might very well be physically holding her down until the stim wore off. Maybe if he didn’t respond, she would give up on her own.

She pulled back abruptly, her fists hammering down on his breastplate. He grabbed her wrists, not wanting her to injure her hands. “Do you have any idea,” she hissed, struggling to pull her hands free, “how many times I’ve looked the other way, or lied about what I knew? I’ve fed you information, I’ve given you contacts you never would have had. I haven’t just accepted what you do, I’ve participated in it, and when it came down to it, I thought you could do the same for me. But I ask you to do one thing-”

Oh, fuck _this_ . He sat up, barely resisting the urge to throw her off of him. “And I did it,” he snarled in return. “I did _exactly_ what you asked me to do. Just like _always_.”

She made scornful sound. “You’ve always been an asshole, but until this moment you’ve never been a liar.” And then she kissed him again, swallowing any unwise rebuttals that used words like “entitled” and “bitch,” in that order.

When it came down to it, he wanted to fuck her much more than he wanted to fight. He wanted her sweaty and disheveled and begging for more. It was the only time he ever felt like he had any control in this relationship.

He cupped her head, his fingers pulling her hair free while her hand returned to his belt, quickly removing the necessary armor. Her hand spread over the front of his pants, rubbing his half-hard cock, and the rest of his anger immediately transformed into all-consuming lust.

“ _Fierfek_ ,” he growled, pressing his mouth into the soft skin of her throat and marking her with his teeth. The low, round neckline of her gown pulled easily off her shoulders and down to her arms. She was so busy trying to work off his armor she didn’t even protest his gloved hands on her breasts. Her fingers pulled clumsily at the clasps of suit, and her hands spread around his exposed throat. She was panting, grinding her hips against his, and then her hands tightened, constricting his airway. Adrenaline shot through his veins, riding the edge of discomfort and arousal. He grabbed her wrists and rolled, putting her on her back beneath him and pinning her arms to the floor. She squirmed and trashed, but when he kissed her she kissed him back, her teeth dragging down his lower lip. She twisted as he pushed her legs apart, yielding with a soft moan that set his blood on fire.

Every second he had to spend watching her smile and schmooze and deflect with those idiots at dinner, he wanted this. She could orbit between the core and outer rim with ease, but _this_ was his only home. A world where only the two of them lived and nothing else mattered.

She made a soft, needy sound, her hips rising up against him. Her heavy skirts were pulled out of the way, and he lifted up enough to open his pants. Her hand was already between her legs, touching herself and then pulling her underwear to one side. He couldn’t see much in the dark, but he could smell her, and he could feel wet heat as he found his place.

One thrust and he was home. She moaned, squirming and clutching at him with her legs. He caught one leg and hooked it over his shoulder, driving into her even deeper, trying to give her what she wanted.

It was always about giving her what she wanted.

Because she gave him everything.

Everything including this, the grasping, searing delirium of being wanted and wanting in unison. Of feeling her arch and gasp and break, shuddering as her body spasmed while his own release climbed and clawed to the peak before dropping him into oblivion.

When his sense of orientation returned she was still there, breathing heavily beneath him. His face was tucked into the curve of her throat, where he could feel her racing pulse and sweat-damp hair clinging to her skin. She turned her head toward him, rubbing her cheek against him like a pleased cat. He leaned into the caress, eyes still shut.

As tempting as it was to just lay here, warm and sated, there was still a matter left unsettled. It worried at the back of his mind, demanding resolution. “What did I do wrong?”

Her arms came up around him, stroking his back soothingly. “Nothing, Boba. You didn’t do anything wrong.”

“You were angry,” he pointed out, not willing to be soothed. He wanted an answer so he wouldn’t make the same mistake again. “What did I do?”

“You-” she paused and sighed. “I told you about this dinner weeks ago. You could have told me you didn’t want to go.”

“You said it was important.”

“But you could have said something.”

“Would it have changed anything?”

She squirmed a little beneath him. “Maybe not, but you’re a grown man and you can damn well look me in the eye and tell me how you feel about something.” She paused a moment, then added, “also, you could try being a little more open minded. It was a dinner party, for the force’s sake. How was that any different from eating with the Mandalorians on Concord Dawn?”

He lifted his head, wishing he could see her face better in the dark. “No one on Concord Dawn has ever referred to me as ‘Lord Organa,’ for a start.”

“Oh gods,” she said with exasperation. “I told you it’s just the old Alderaani titling system. It doesn’t mean anything.”

“It means they don’t have to remember my name.”

“It also means we don’t have to field a lot of awkward questions if someone knows who you are.”

They were only awkward questions for _her_. He rolled on to his back beside her, looking up at the ceiling. “The Rodian knew.”

“Fellun Ginspro? Are you sure?”

“He’s a former client.”

“He is?” She shifted to her side. “For _what_?”

“His son had a gambling problem and got into debt with the wrong people. He paid me to sort it out.”

“He _had_ a gambling problem?”

The corner of his mouth pulled up. “Looking for leverage, Senator?”

There was a tinge of annoyance in her voice. “Maybe.”

“Ginspro wasn’t happy with my price tag, so the next time his son got into trouble, he hired someone else.” He paused. “I should have said he _had_ a son with a gambling problem.”

“Oh.” She took a moment to absorb that. “No wonder he was so twitchy all evening.”

“Even if they know who I am, most of them won’t admit it.”

“And that bothers you?”

“No,” he lied. “But you said you weren’t going to try to hide it.”

“I’m not,” she protested. “I just don’t want…” The sentence trailed off. She moved closer to him, resting her head on his chest. The stim must be wearing off. His hand moved of it’s own accord to stroke her hair. He should get her to the bed before she fell asleep.

“I promise,” she said softly, “the next time someone calls you Lord Organa, I will explain that in the Mandalorian tradition, we kept our own names. Therefore I’m Leia Organa and you’re Boba Fett. And that’s who we are.”

The communications panel on the wall gave a gentle chime and a robotic female voice spoke. “There has been a breaker malfunction affecting all rooms in the east wing. Our technicians assure us the problem will be fixed momentarily. We value your patronage, and sincerely apologize for this lapse of service.”

Leia snorted ungracefully. “Too late for the table.”

“Let’s get you to bed.” Fett pulled himself up to his knees and gathered her into his arms.

“Need to call...check on the boys.”

“I’ll take care of it.”

“Oh, good,” she said drowsily. “You always do. Take care of things, I mean.” The power returned about two seconds after he laid her down on the bed, but she was already sound asleep.

  
  
  



	6. Mandalore

 

[Chapter 18 of Meeting Like This](http://archiveofourown.org/works/595493/chapters/2034559) from Kal Skirata's POV. Rated T. 

* * *

 

 

“Are you sure you want to know?” Bardan asked, and for a moment the only sound was the crackling of the fire. Twenty-three men in the dusty old dining hall, and not one made a sound. Kal Skirata shifted in his seat, and the creak of the old wooden chair sounded as loud as an explosion.

Leia Organa didn’t seem to hear it. She was completely focused on Bardan’s question, her hands clenched tightly in her lap. Kal still wasn’t sure what to make of her, as Fenn Shysa’s pet senator or as the woman who had married Boba Fett.

She was younger than he expected, but she had a steely quality that defied age. Given the personal nature of her request, she probably wasn’t expecting an audience, but from the moment she walked through the door, she took in the roomful of Mandalorians without so much as blinking.  

Bardan leaned forward, speaking in that gentle way that always reminded Kal that his adopted son was once a Jedi. “Whatever you’re afraid of him becoming, it can’t be that bad.”

“You’d be surprised,” she retorted, and then straightened in realization. “Him?”

“Yes.”

She laid a hand on her stomach and fell silent once again.

Jaing was standing by the door, his eyes on his gauntlet. “Just got a message from the _Mand’alor_. Fett’s on his way.”

The Senator looked up sharply. “Fenn swore he wouldn’t tell him.”

“Apparently, your husband has some sort of tracking device.”

She sat back, visibly disgusted. “Godsdamnit.”

“Given what time he left, he’ll be here soon.”

“You don’t have to talk to him if you don’t want to,” Kal offered. “We’ll see to that.”

Her mouth curled up in a wry smile. “I don’t think you know what you’re signing up for.”

He snorted in response. “Think again.”

She looked thoughtfully around the room at the progeny of Jango Fett. “Boba was still a child when the war ended. You knew his father, you knew he was all alone. You took in so many others...why not him?”

Kal sighed and stretched out his legs, propping one up on a chair. “I did try to find him. Maybe I should have tried harder. But even if we had found him, short of keeping him locked up he never would have stayed. He was raised to be an only child.”

She frowned and looked away. After a few minutes she took a deep breath, and turned back to Bardan. “Well, there’s no sense in putting it off any longer.”

“The force is strong in him,” Bardan said gently. “But that doesn’t mean his path is fixed.”

She closed her eyes briefly, and then nodded.

Bardan looked over Kal’s shoulder at Kad and touched the senator’s hand. “Let me introduce you to someone. _Kad’ika_ , come sit with us. Senator Organa, this is Venku Skirata. We call him Kad. His mother was a Jedi, and his father was another of Kal’s adopted sons. I taught Kad the ways of the force, but he’s not my apprentice. He’s _aliit_.”

“Family,” Leia acknowledged.

“The old Jedi order is gone, and so are the old rules.”

“It’s not that much of a burden,” Kad said with a shrug. “I see it as a tool, no different than good eyesight or good memory.”

“Do you have children?” Leia asked him, and he shook his head.

“No.”

“Will you?”

 _Kad’ika_ hesitated. “I don’t know. Someday, maybe.”

“There was a time,” Kal recalled, “when the _Mand’alor_ was very taken with the idea of force-sensitive Mandalorians.” He inclined his head toward Leia. “I have to figure he’s very pleased about this.”

A rueful smile crossed her face. She started to say something, but Jaing got an alert from one of the boys at the perimeter. “He’s here.”

Kal looked to Leia, who folded her hands in her lap, her fingers laced tightly together. She nodded, and Jaing gave the word. There was a stir in the room, a combination of curiosity and wariness.

The door opened, and Boba Fett entered the room. He didn’t say a word in greeting, nor did he remove his helmet. Kal wasn’t really surprised. He never did have any manners. He cleared his throat. “ _Su’cry_ , Boba. Been a long time.”

A stiff nod was all he got in response. Kal shifted, bringing his feet the floor. He wasn’t about to put up with attitude from someone he knew when he was in diapers. “Take off your helmet,” he ordered. “Let’s a have a look at you.”

After a moment, the bounty hunter complied, replacing the visor of his helmet with a cold, unfriendly gaze. He would be about the same age as Jango was the first time Kal met him, and he looked like him, but then again he didn’t. Like many of the clones, he was a little taller, having had better nutrition as a child. He was leaner and harder, with a restless edge in his stance. One trait of Jango’s was perfectly duplicated in him, and that was the ability to observe everyone and everything around him without so much as flicker of expression.

“You’re thinner than Jango, I think,” Kal remarked, making some attempt to break the tension in the room. “Can’t your wife cook?”

“She can’t even boil water.” Leia was the very picture of composure.

Fett’s gaze shifted to her. “Well?” Maybe Shysa gave up more information than he intended, or maybe Fett put it together himself. Leia didn’t look away. Her hands were still in her lap, her knuckles white.

The force is strong in him.”

A muscle tightened in the bounty hunter’s jaw. “Why didn’t you go to your brother?”

“I thought you wouldn’t want me to. Not until we had a chance to talk.”

More silence. “All right,” Kal said. “It’s a baby, not a death sentence.”

Fett ignored him. “You said ‘him.’”

“Him.” She inhaled, and her fingers straightened, smoothing the edges of her tunic. “Our son. My turn to ask a question. Where is it?”

“The tracking device?”

“Yes, Boba, the _tracking device_.”

“Your shoes.”

She stared at him. “ _All_ of them?”

His shoulders lifted in a spare shrug. “How far along are you?”

She looked away, a touch of red in her cheeks. “About seven weeks.”

“And only married for five,” Kal noted with mock disapproval. “Or so Fenn tells me.”

“He also said you weren’t allowed to tease me,” Leia reminded him.

Fenn had plenty of things to say about the fact that she was due exactly nine months after Remembrance Day. “Is it teasing to point out facts? He’ll have a very common birthday, more likely than not. Half of my grandchildren have the same, or within a few days.”

But his reference to the longstanding cultural tradition was clearly lost on Fett. “Remembrance Day,” Kal supplied helpfully. “They celebrate it the same everywhere. Lots and lots of-”  
“Drinking,” Leia jumped in tactfully. Her cheeks were bright red, and Kal decided to show mercy.

“That’s what I was going to say,” He insisted. “That and singing.” Bardan gave him a knowing look.

“Yes, that too.” The senator tilted her head back to look up at her husband. “I seem to recall doing a bit of both.”

He met her eyes, and just for that moment the hardness dropped from his expression, and the corner of his mouth curled just a slightly. “You were very well assimilated.”

Jango would hate this. His son and heir, a bounty hunter with a reputation that surpassed his own, in love with a force-sensitive politician. Kal himself didn’t hate it. Leia Organa seemed like a woman who could handle whatever _osik_ life threw at her, and Jango’s legacy left behind plenty of that.

“I guess we should be going,” she said, turning in her seat to address the room. “It was a pleasure to meet all of you.”

Bardan touched her arm. “You’ll think about what I said?”

“I will. Thank you.” She looked over at Kad and held out her hand. “Thank you, too.”

 _Kad’ika_ gave her hand a squeeze and nodded, and as she stood Kal stood too and shook her hand. “It’s a big job you’ve got, you and Fenn. Is it true you’re bringing back the Mandalorian Protectors?”

Her face lit up, and her gaze immediately became assessing. “Yes, but we can’t do it alone. I’m sure the new protectors would benefit from your resources and experience.”

Kal almost laughed. “My money, you mean.”

“Not just your money.” She cast a meaningful look around the room. “We need Mandalorians to serve as protectors. They need to be smart as well as strong, ruthless and cunning.” Her mouth curved into a beguiling smile. “And of course, it doesn’t hurt that you’re all so remarkably good looking.”

There was a murmur of laughter, and Kal found himself smiling back at her. She knew what she was about, he would give her that. She glanced up at Fett as she moved toward the door. “Ready?”

He moved aside to let her exit first. “After you.” As she walked through the door, the bounty hunter turned, a movement that covered her back while he replaced his helmet. He gave Kal one last nod, and left.

“ _Babuir_ , should we walk them to the road?”

“No. I don’t think that’s necessary.”

Jaing folded his arms over his chest. “I see why Fenn likes her. They have the same idealism.”

“I wouldn’t call it that,” Bardan disagreed. “You know who she is, don’t you? The empire blew her homeworld into dust. It takes more than idealism to come back from that.”

“I agree,” Kal said, drawing a few surprised looks. “Maybe it’s damned nostalgia, but I like the idea of reforming the protectors. That’s what we want, isn’t it? Mandalore for Mandalorians?”

Jaing frowned, still unconvinced. “It’s a start.”

  
  



	7. Revelations

[Chapter 9 of _Days and Nights_](http://archiveofourown.org/works/1767403/chapters/8603491) from Fett's POV. Rated M. 

* * *

 

"It's been my experience that power makes two kinds of beings. Leaders and bullies."   


"That's very black and white,” Leia remarked. “But then again, I imagine you've worked for a lot of bullies." 

Fett stood beside her as she looked out at the lake. The moon and stars were perfectly reflected on the surface of the water, pale and shimmering like the long white robe she wore. "Bullies pay well. They're scared. And they usually have reason to be."   


She turned her head to look at him. "Do you think Ta'a Chume is scared?"   


"Yes."   


"Of what?"   


He turned towards her. "You."   


"Me? She barely knows me."   


"She knows you could replace her."   


She fell silent again, her lips pressed together. 

She  _ could _ replace Ta’a Chume, and Hapes would be better off for it. The Republic would be better of as well, having gained a valuable ally. Whether or not Leia herself would be better off married to Isolder, Fett couldn’t say with any measure of objectivity.

He always considered it to be inevitable that someday she would leave. Whatever this was between them, made of secrets and stolen time, it wouldn’t last. But the idea of it ending like this, because she was marrying a young, handsome, powerful prince...it stung. More than it should have.

"Can you swim?" She said it abruptly, jarring him out of his thoughts.

“I  _ can _ . I don't do it often."   


"Would you like to?" Leia tilted her head towards the dark water.    


"You're not scared of the fish?"   


"Not if you go with me." She pulled at the ties of her robe and it opened down the front. She still had her swimming suit on underneath, the one that wrapped around her breasts and hips like a wide red ribbon. "I know you probably don't have swimming clothes with you, but you could swim in your shorts. Or naked, if you want. I don't care."   


For her to say the word “naked” while showing him her barely clothed body was a brutal assault on his concentration. She stood there, patiently waiting for an answer while he talked himself down from the scenario that involved yanking that red fabric down to her ankles and fucking her right here on the dock. 

His right hand twitched, and he curled his fingers into a fist. She wanted to swim. He wanted to touch her. These objectives were not irreconcilable. 

“I want to swim to the other side,” Leia said, letting the white robe slide off entirely. “Think you can make it?”

He definitely thought he could. 

She strolled toward the dock while he swiftly removed his armor and stripped down to his shorts. Jango had taught him to swim when he was very young. He remembered standing at the edge of the docking bay with his father, looking into the choppy waters that covered Kamino’s surface. “You fall in, you’ve got about three minutes before something eats you,” Jango warned. “But I don’t want you to drown first.”

So he learned to swim. But he hadn’t had the reason or occasion to swim in a number of years, so keeping up with Leia proved to be a challenge. He recalled now that the senate building had an aquatic center and that she had mentioned swimming there before.

She cut through the water with practiced ease, the moon shining off her wet hair. They swam to the far side of the lake and floated there for a while, looking up at the stars. Leia suggested a contest to see which of them could stay underwater the longest, and that turned into a splashing fight. 

She seemed happy, and that pleased him. She didn’t smile at Isolder like that, or make faces at him or laugh as freely as she laughed now. She splashed him again and he dunked her. She came up gasping and sputtering and he moved in, his arms circling around her under the water. She pushed back her wet hair and let her hands rest on his shoulders. She was smiling again, about to say something but his hand touched her cheek, and she stilled and looked up into his eyes.

There it was. The invitation. His fingers curled around the back of her neck and he kissed her. Her lips parted immediately and her hands grasped at his shoulders. His feet could touch the bottom here, freeing his hands to hold her closer as her legs wrapped around his waist. He ducked his head and pulled the wet fabric of her suit aside so he could lick and kiss his way down her chest.

He could taste lake water on her skin, but the way she gasped and her nails dug into the back of his neck made it worth it. “Oh gods,” she whimpered, clinging to him like a drowning woman. “We can’t do this out here.”

He agreed. Having sex out in the open in a lake was neither safe nor sanitary. They should go back to her hut, but it was all the way on the other side of the lake, and there were other huts on this side. Empty huts. "There," he said, indicating the closest.   


"It'll be locked."   


"I can open it."   


They scrambled up the rocky bank and he stopped at the first hut and tapped the code into the lockpad. "I saw her open Skywalker's hut,” he explained when Leia gave him a questioning look. “She uses the same code for all of them.”

As soon as the door shut behind them he pulled her back into his arms. Her wet skin was cold, but her mouth was warm, and her suit peeled away easily, baring her soft breasts. He wanted to see the water glistening on her skin, but lights were out of the question.

Her touch was urgent and hungry as her hands moved down his back and slid under the waistband of his shorts. She pushed them down quickly and got rid of her suit. They were both warming up now, heat and arousal simmering between them. Her hand drifted down his stomach and she took hold of his shaft with a pleased sound, stroking him until he was fully hard.

He leaned into her, kissing and biting her throat. His hand pressed in between her thighs and every nerve ending in his body caught fire. " _ Fierfek _ ,” he muttered against her skin. “He doesn't make you wet like this, does he?" He moved his hand and she shuddered, drawing in a ragged breath. 

“No. But you do.” She arched up to kiss him again. “And I want you.”

Leia could have anyone she wanted, including the fucking prince of Hapes, but she wanted him. If there was any mystical force at work in the galaxy, this was the proof. He picked her up, bracing her back against the door. “Say it again.”   


"I want you. Oh gods-" Her nails dug into his shoulders as he pushed into her, burying himself in her heat and desire. She squirmed and wrapped her legs around him, trying to get closer. He shifted and drove deeper inside of her, and her nails bit into his skin. “Boba-”

He wanted to drown all of his senses in her, her taste, her skin, her scent and every little sound she made as he thrust into her. Desire burned hotter and brighter until finally he reached that place where the light drowned everything else out. Then the only thing he could feel was the steady throb of her pulse in her throat.

He leaned into her, allowing himself a few more seconds of mindless warmth before reality broke through. She sighed and let her head fall back against the wall. “This is ridiculous. I don't want to be the queen of Hapes."   


Fett lifted his head, trying to see her face in the dark. "Are you sure about that? You're not just saying that because of...this?"   
She laughed softly and nuzzled into his cheek. “You’re good,” she murmured, kissing him just below his ear. “But you’re not that good.” 

Godsdamnit, he’d missed this. 

She squirmed a little. “You know, there’s a bed in here.”

He set her down carefully before he turned to look. It was the same narrow bed as the other huts, the mattress bare. “Could be useful.” He slid his hand down between her legs, teasing her wet folds with his fingers.   


“Uhm.” She put her hand on his arm. “Let's go back to my place. It's warmer and there are sheets on the bed."   


He removed his hand. "As you wish, Senator."   


"Ha,” she retorted dryly as she picked up her wet suit off the floor. They dressed and swam back across the lake to Leia’s hut. She went straight for the shower, making room for him to join her under the warm spray. “You’re staring,” he said as he ducked his head under the spigot. 

“Sorry,” she murmured, combing her fingers through her wet hair. “I feel like I haven’t seen your face in a while.”

“It’s been three days.”

“It feels longer.” 

He got out and dried off while she took his place under the spray. “Maybe it’s because you’ve been in Dyrk’s armor,” she mused. “At least when it’s your helmet, it’s familiar.”

He’d left Dyrk’s armor and weapons sitting out on the dock. Fucking careless. He retrieved a pair of pants and put them on. “Speaking of Dyrk’s armor…I’ll be right back.” The dock was quiet, all of the huts dark. He put on the helmet briefly and did a quick scan with the infrared sensor. Astarta and Isolder were in their hut, but Skywalker’s hut was empty. No sign of the Jedi. No sign of Dyrk. Fett took off the helmet and went back inside.

Leia was out of the shower and dry, rebraiding her hair. “Leave it down,” he said, and her fingers stilled. She looked up at him, and a knowing smile played at the corner of her mouth. He set the armor down by the door and moved closer. He always liked touching her when she was fresh out of the shower. He liked it when her hair was a wild, wet tangle and her skin was soft and flushed.    


Leia’s armor was all on the inside, wrapped in a petite, delicate body. Naked or clothed, she had that presence, that strength in her spine and fire in her eyes. “You’re not a bully,” he said. “You’d be good at it.”   


“Thank you. But I don’t want it.” She stood on her toes and kissed him lightly. There was something about the way she smelled after bathing, that combination of soap and hot water and Leia. It made him...hungry. He pulled her tight against him and kissed her harder, but it wasn’t enough. It wouldn’t be enough tonight to kiss her and touch her and make her come. He wanted to devour her until she lost all sense of existence. When he let her go, she gave him a playful smile and retreated to the bed. She thought she knew what was coming.

He went to the sink and filled up a stoneware cup with water. He wanted to be prepared in case this took a while. He set the cup on the table beside the bed, and Leia glanced at it before reaching for him. “I’m not thirsty.”

“It’s not for you.” He pulled her hands away from his pants and kissed her, pushing her back down onto the bed. She smelled even better up close, and he nuzzled into her throat, biting down on her smooth skin. She inhaled sharply. “Don’t-” 

“Don’t what?” 

“Nothing.” She shifted on the bed, her hands stroking the back of his neck. “Don’t stop.” 

He moved down, giving her breasts his full attention. He had a very specific plan here, but since he’d never gone down on her in the past, there was a chance that he would have to very quickly change course. She’d never said anything about it before, never pushed his head down or anything like that. Maybe she just didn’t want to ask, or maybe she didn’t enjoy it. 

He was about to find out. The bed frame creaked as he knelt between her legs and went lower, licking and biting his way down her belly. Her hips rose up to meet his fingers as he touched her between her legs, spreading her open. He ducked his head and licked her, a broad sweep of his tongue, and her whole body jerked in shock. He did it again and the choked “ahhh” sound she made was encouragement enough.

His plan was to start with inefficient enthusiasm and progress to slow and steady torture until she was gasping and panting and maybe even begging for release. Leia was more apt to bite her lip than cry out, but he knew if he pushed her far enough and drove her crazy enough she could be very loud. Loud enough to wake the neighbors.

He hadn’t realized, until this moment, just how badly he wanted to wipe that confident smile off of Isolder’s perfectly handsome face. 

He was making good progress. Her nails were digging into his shoulders and neck, clawing ineffectively at his short hair. She was never still in bed, but the way she twisted and bucked now made her mounting frustration clear. He was just about to stop, to let her simmer for a few seconds before the torture phase started when he saw the door fly open out of the corner of his eye.

It wasn’t the Hapan prince. He grabbed Leia and dragged her off the side of bed. Only a brief impression was burned into his mind. A figure dressed in dark fatigues, a rifle in hand. The bed was meager cover at best, and his weapons were across the room, next to the door.

Leia clutched at him in confusion, but she didn’t make a sound. Her eyes followed his to the scorch marks on the wall above them. Silent rounds. 

Leia picked up the stoneware cup off the floor, hefting it in her hand with a look of grim determination, and it touched off an idea in his head. He couldn’t get to his blaster, but he could draw fire away from Leia and procure some kind of weapon in the process. He traded her a pillow for the heavy cup and then threw the cup, not at their assailant, but at the mirror behind the tub. The glass shattered, and he rolled through the flying shards to take cover behind one of Leia’s storage cases.

He looked down at the the three-inch blade of glass in his hand. He only had one shot at this. He looked over at Leia huddled behind the bed, and she understood. She flung the pillow up over the bed and Fett rolled up on one knee. He needed two seconds. One second to aim. One second to throw. 

The assassin fired again, but the shot went wild as the shard found it’s mark, sending out a spray of blood. The rifle fell to the floor, and the woman staggered back, making a feeble attempt to grasp the glass embedded in her throat. She dropped to hertheir knees and finally collapsed onto the floor, blood pooling beneath her. 

He saw Leia peeringed over the bed. She was unharmed. She looked at the fallen assassin and turned to looked at Fett with wide eyes full of relief. Footsteps sounded outside on the boardwalk. The sound of the mirror breaking must have awakened the Hapans. Astarta burst into the room, took a swift look around and kicked the assassin's rifle to one side before she knelt beside the body. She was human. Nothing remarkable about her or her gear. Fett kept his attention on Isolder as the prince holstered his blaster and started toward the bed. “Leia! Are you hurt?” 

He stopped abruptly, averting his eyes when he realized she was naked. Leia pulled a sheet from the rumpled bed and wrapped it around herself. “I’m fine,” she said with the dignity of a queen. “We both are.”

The prince turned towards Fett as he stood, a question in his eyes. Fett raised his hand and slowly wiped his mouth and chin, and Isolder’s gaze quickly turned to one of pure loathing.

It was Astarta who broke the silence. "The assassin is dead," she said, glancing at Fett. "I presume this is the answer to your question about who the target is."

"Perhaps she intended to kill the princess first, then me." Isolder protested. "Is she also...Hapan?"

"She could be," Astarta replied. "Her clothing is nondescript, her rifle standard." She hesitated. "My prince, I think we have to consider it. The queen's retinue are the only ones who knew our exact location. There could be a traitor among them."

"We are certain it could be no one else? No one from Coruscant or-" Isolder's eyes cut to Fett. "Mandalore?"

"I haven't contacted anyone," Leia pointed out. "For all they know, I'm already on Hapes."   
Skywalker materialized in the doorway, his dark robes blending into the shadows. He looked at the body on the floor, then up at Fett. Then he looked at Leia wrapped in her sheet and all but rolled his eyes, which Fett found hypocritical, considering he and Dyrk had probably been off in the jungle playing “hide the  _ beskad _ ” when the young Mandalorian was supposed to be working.

Leia folded her arms and glared at her brother. “Where were you?” 

“With Dyrk, at his ship.”

Fett glanced meaningfully at Leia, but Isolder spoke up before she could say anything. “Could he have sent our location to anyone?” 

Skywalker shook his head. "He checked in with one of the other guards when we arrived, but he just said it was Tanaab. He never gave any coordinates."

"You are certain?" Astarta inquired. "No data was transmitted?"

"I was right there. Besides, Dyrk would never do anything to hurt Leia. He's very loyal. I could sense that right away."

Fett looked at Leia again, but she was ignoring him. Perhaps intentionally. 

"You can sense a man's loyalty?" Isolder inquired.   


"To some extent. I can sense strong emotions, especially when people are trying to hide something."   


"Then you can speak with my mother's people," the prince said firmly. "If one of them is acting on behalf of a rival faction, I must know."   


"I'll do what I can."   


"I will ask them to send the shuttle back immediately." Astarta stood to her feet. "There could be more assassins in the area. Perhaps you and the princess should go aboard with him while we secure the area."   


Isolder nodded. "An excellent idea."   


Fett leveled a hard look at the prince. "Sending her aboard a Hapan ship to protect her from Hapan assassins? I disagree."   


Isolder held his gaze. "I will personally ensure her safety.”   


He turned to face Leia. "No."   


She pressed her lips together briefly. “I’ll have Luke with me. Captain Astarta is right,” she added. “And you and Dyrk are better equipped to go hunting in the jungle." She  turned to Isolder. "Could you give me a few minutes, please? I need to dress."   


"Of course." Isolder nodded to Astarta and they both left, with Skywalker trailing behind. The minute the door shut behind them, Leia exhaled heavily, her shoulders hunched. 

“Seven hells. Seven  _ kriffing _ hells.” She looked down at the dead assassin on the floor and shook her head before motioning to him. “Come over here and wash your hand while I get the medkit.”

His hand was bleeding freely from grasping the mirror glass, but it wasn’t deeply cut. “I’ll take care of it.”

She put a hand on her hip and glared at him. "You have shards of glass embedded in your back, are you aware of that? Get over here,  _ now _ ."   


There was no point in arguing with her. Not when there were other, more important arguments to have.  "You really think this is a good idea?"   


"I have something to discuss with Isolder and his mother," she said pointedly. "I'd like to get it over with. If I'm incredibly eloquent and insanely lucky, maybe they won't close off all negotiation with the Republic." She turned on the water in the sink and guided his bloody hand into the spray. She watched the water turn pink around the drain, rubbing his arm in a soothing gesture and biting her lip. Five minutes ago someone tried to kill her, and she was worried about a minor injury he’d sustained. 

She looked up at him, and she must have seen at least some glimpse of his frustration. “I mean really, what he can he do?” She said gently, still rubbing his arm. “Abduct me and hold me prisoner until I agree to marry him?"

She clearly considered that to be a far-fetched, even laughable theory. Thinking about the resentment in the prince’s eyes, Fett wasn’t as sure. 


	8. Devotion

Someone on tumblr showed mild interest in Boba's POV during the final scene of [Devotion](http://archiveofourown.org/works/11064756). At the very least, hard M. This also references a scene from [Leaving Concord Dawn](http://archiveofourown.org/works/596553). 

* * *

 “Are ya all tired out?”

There was something about the tenor of Fenn’s voice. One part solicitation, two parts challenge. Boba raised his head from the bed as the _Mand’alor_ passed through his field of vision with a bottle of ale dangling from one hand. “You have something in mind?”

“Yeah, I might.”

His mind ticked through the list of approved activities, and he was about ask when Fenn’s full weight landed on his back, and two strong arms wrapped around his, pinning them back.

“The _fuck_ -” He twisted and tried to roll, but Fenn had him well positioned.

“ _Osik,_ you’re strong,” the _Mand’alor_ murmured, breathing a little heavier. “But you should probably just relax. We both know I’m not gonna hurt ya.”

He _knew_ , but it was hard to shake the instinct to fight. Fenn had him completely restrained, and that wasn’t a blaster pressed against the back of his thigh. “Where’s Leia?”

“Watching from the kitchen.”

Oh. The security feed. Boba would rather have her in the bedroom, but this wasn’t about what he wanted. He shifted, testing the other man’s hold. “This is how you want to do this?”

“I’m gonna be a little nicer,” Fenn promised. “I just wanted to see if I could hold ya down.” He rubbed his unshaven cheek against the back of Boba’s neck. “You can change your mind, ya know. At any point. Just say the word.”

In their earlier conversations, Fenn had stressed this repeatedly. As if there was some remote possibility that Boba hadn’t thought this through.

Fenn released his arms, and his weight lifted. “Why don’t you rest your head on your arms like you were doin’ before?”

He made an approving noise low in his throat when Boba compiled, and dragged his palm slowly down his back. “There’s one thing I’m curious about,” he said in a soft, rasping voice. “You prepare for everything. Did ya prepare for this?”

It was a weird, ticklish sensation to have someone touch his ass, even when he was expecting it. Two fingers slipped between his cheeks, probing gently, and Boba had to fight the urge to move. “Oh, good,” Fenn said approvingly. “What’d ya use?”

“It’s in the shower. Green bottle.”

“Oh _that_ ’s why you were in there so long.” His long fingers offered one last intimate caress. “Right. Stay put.”

His weight lifted off the bed completely. Boba rested his forehead on his arms and shut his eyes while he waited. He’d fingered his wife’s ass plenty of times, felt the tight clench of her body around his fingers, and the slow easing while she squirmed against his hand. Being the receiving end of his fingers was...very different, and despite his diligent efforts, he’d barely worked up to two fingers.

“This is good stuff,” Fenn said as the mattress dipped, announcing his return. “Long lasting, clean smellin’, mild flavor.”

Boba had never once considered what it might taste like. “Are you planning to eat it?”

Fenn chuckled. “Kinda, yeah.” His fingers were back between Boba’s cheeks, spreading them open. Almost as if-

His tongue swept in, hot and wet, and Boba jerked in shock. He opened his mouth, but all he could manage was a jumble of mixed-up swearing. The thing that really caught him off guard was not just the incredible intimacy of the action but the fact that it felt...good. Better than good. Fenn’s tongue produced the same sensation provided by his own fingers in the shower, only warmer and more soothing, and every now and then a particularly probing motion sent a jolt of pleasure straight to his dick.

_Fierfek_. He was getting hard again, a recovery time that had to be record-setting in the most recent decade of his life. Fenn slipped a slick finger in beside his tongue, and was easier and more pleasurable than Boba could have imagined.

“Kind of a funny feeling, isn’t it?” Fenn observed cheerfully. A second finger joined the first, and the stretching was more obvious, but still well within the range of comfortable. “Imagine how your wife feels when you put your whole dick up there. ‘Course, you’re gonna find out soon enough...See there, ya tensed again.” The _Mand’alor_ paused and Boba could hear ale swishing in the bottle as Fenn took a drink. When his fingers returned, they were newly slicked and penetrated him easily. “C’mon,” Fenn coaxed, angling his fingers apart. “Work with me here. Move that fine ass.”

Boba rolled his eyes, even though Fenn couldn’t see it. “Maybe you should you use your tongue again.”

“Hah. Liked that, did ya?”

“I like how _quiet_ it makes you _.”_

Those long fingers moved again, and one of them hit a tender spot that set off a streak of white-hot lightning up his spine. _Fuck_. What the _kriff_?

Fenn grunted in a satisfied way. “There we go. That’s nice, isn’t it?” And then he did it again, the _bastard_. “Boba? Breathing, remember? Breathing is important.”

He sounded so damn smug. Boba pressed his forehead into his arm again and gritted his teeth, trying not grind his erection against the bed in an obvious way. “ _Fierfek_ , just fuck me already.”

“Well, if ya insist…” Fenn’s voice was still smug but there was a ragged edge to it. His knees found their place, planted firmly between Boba’s thighs, forcing them a little further apart. Boba was having second thoughts about this position. It felt too vulnerable. But to do this face-to-face felt even more so.

And then the head of Fenn’s cock pushed into him, and it was stimulating and uncomfortable and confusing as hell. Fenn pushed a little more and Boba hissed another incoherent curse as his body slowly gave way. “That’s the spirit,” the _Mand’alor_ rasped. “If you’ve got any gods, now’s the time to profane ‘em.”

The muscles in his legs flexed against Boba’s and the thought that immediately filled his mind was of Fenn pinning him down. He could easily do so again. He had all the leverage, he could do whatever he wanted. Panic flared up in his stomach, but he wouldn’t let it surface. This was what he agreed to.

“ _Osik_ ,” Fenn groaned. “You’re so-” His head dropped down to rest on Boba’s back as he drew in a long breath. “Here’s what I want ya to do,” he said in his persuasive way. “Think about your pretty wife, sitting’ in the kitchen with a glass of wine, coaxing another orgasm out of that tender pussy. Because she’s lovin’ this, ya know she is.”

Leia never minded rough play in bed. She loved to be held down. Loved to fight and squirm and buck against him while he pinned her to the bed. On occasion she’d even done the same to him by binding his hands to the headboard with one of her expensive silk scarves, or bracing her hands against his forearms. She liked to tease him. She liked to torture him until the need to be inside of her nearly broke him.

“Bet she’s got one foot up on the table,” Fenn murmured against his neck. “And one hand between her legs, and she’s flushed and panting and holding off for just the right moment. What do you think that moment is? When I shove my prick all the way in ya, or when I fill your ass up with my cum?” The _Mand’alor_ ’s teeth grazed his shoulder, and the last of his panic dissolved. Fenn had the same desperate need. Fenn wanted to be inside of him. That made him the helpless one, the one who would break apart in the end. A new determination seized him as he braced his arms against the bed and pushed back into the other man.

“That’s the way,” Fenn half-growled and half-groaned. “Just let me in, and I’ll see if I can find that spot that made ya beg to be fucked.”

A flush of heat spread through him. “I didn’t-” He shut his mouth as Fenn thrust again. He knew he couldn’t keep his voice steady.  _Fek._

“Keep arguing with me,” Fenn threatened ineffectually between panting breaths, “and I’ll fuck you raw, you little _di’kut_.”

“That’s funny,” he shot back. “You won’t last more than thirty seconds.”

“You want to bet on that, Bob’ika?” His left hand clamped down on the back of Boba’s neck, bracing himself as his hips moved in short, shallow jerks. “Unlike you, I’ve actually done this before.” He made a strangled sound and stopped moving for a moment. “I’ll say this for ya, your ass lives up to expectations. Do ya know how long I’ve wanted to do this?”

“First time you saw me.” Boba was feeling impatient now. He wanted Fenn to keep going. He didn’t even mind the hand on his neck. “It was pretty obvious.”

Fenn, as always, took the bait. His breathing picked up, and he moved his hips with more force. “You were an arrogant little _shabuir_ then and you’re an arrogant little _shabuir_ now.”

_So do something about it_. Maybe it was better that the reckless words never made it to his mouth, because Fenn thrust again, driving into him with enough force to make him gasp.

The hand lifted from the back of his neck. “Remember, if ya want me to-”

“ _Shut up_ ,” he snarled, almost ashamed of how much he wanted Fenn’s hand to return. Heat and sweat prickled all over his skin and the soft sheets provided friction for his cock but no relief. Fenn shifted and hit that lightning-hot spot again, and begging suddenly seemed like a very reasonable option.

He must have made some noise, because Fenn inhaled sharply. “Right there, huh? Do ya want to rise up a little? Maybe a get a hand on yourself?”

He shook his head. He hoped that was acceptable to Leia. There was a part of him that was still getting used to the idea that he could do this and be aroused by it. As revelations go, it was too new and raw.

Even in his youth, when his dick hardened for almost any occasion, he never gave more than a passing thought to being with a man. But appropriately enough, one of those passing thoughts came courtesy of Fenn Shysa. He was eighteen at the time and sitting in the cockpit of Fenn’s ship, _Free Mandalore_. His marriage was over, and his father’s homeworld had exiled him. No one wanted him. No one but Fenn Shysa.

He almost felt bad for his younger self. He could have had a rebound fuck. Probably would have enjoyed it.

Fenn’s hand tightened on his hip, drawing him back to the present where he was, in fact, fucking with Fenn Shysa and enjoying it. He hoped Leia was enjoying it. If they ever did this again, he wanted her here, on the bed with them. He could be touching her soft skin right now, stroking up her leg, playing with her wet folds.

Then she could tell him if he should touch himself, or if Fenn should touch him, or maybe she would like to be beneath him. It was a thought like spark, and it caught fire in his mind. He would be willing to do this again. If she wanted to.

Fenn strained against him, his rhythm rough and uneven. Boba could hear the break in his breathing as he thrust once more and felt the heat of his body surrounding him and then filling him as he came.

Well, now _there_ was a new sensation.

Fenn was pinning him down again, but this time it was all deadweight. Boba remained still, listening to the _Mand’alor_ ’s labored breathing.

“Was that...longer than thirty seconds?”

“Fuck. Yes.” As Fenn’s dick softened there was a wetness between them that he found unpleasant. “Get off of me.”

“Sorry.” Fenn’s weight lifted as he rolled to one side and Boba wondered if he could go to the shower without Fenn noticing his erection. _Kriff_. A man just ejaculated inside him and he was still half hard. A little more than half. Fenn would probably grin that stupid grin of his and say something like, “I knew it.”

No  _fekking_ way he was going to give him that. 

“Hey,” Fenn offered, breaking into his thoughts. “You okay?”

“Fine,” he returned without looking up. “Just...give me a second.”

“You tried something new. Doesn’t have to mean anything.”

“I know.” All he wanted was a few minutes of silence, but clearly he wasn’t going to get it.

“Well, it does mean one thing,” A teasing note entered the other man’s voice. “Everytime I hear some tale about the exploits of the great Boba Fett, the first thing I think about is gonna be that sound you made when I was inside of ya. Kind of a whine...or maybe a whimper?”

Boba turned his head to look Fenn in the eye. “It was forty-seven seconds.”

“ _Haar’chak_. You lying little shit.”

“I counted.”

“The hell you did. No one _fekking_ counts while I’m fuckin ‘em.” Fenn pulled himself up a little and looked past Boba. “Tell ya what, we’ll let Leia rule on it. It was definitely longer than a standard minute. Had to be at least two or three.”

“Hmm. I really couldn’t say.” He heard her footsteps and then felt the dip in the mattress as she laid down beside him. Her scent surrounded him like a soothing, familiar balm, and her lips pressed against his shoulder. “When you’re ready to get up, I’ll shower with you. But there’s no hurry.”

He turned his head toward her, and lifted his hand just enough to touch her flushed cheek.

“This has been a very special birthday,” she said, cupping his face. “Thank you.” Her fingers smelled like her own arousal and his cock twitched beneath him in response.  

He was sure of two things. Every momentary discomfort was worth it, and if there was ever a time to ask for oral sex in the shower, this was it. But maybe he should come inside of her. Just in case. He lowered one arm and spread a hand over her belly, because there was something else she wanted. “You’re not too old,” he said fiercely, wanting her to believe it.

Her lips curved into a smile. “I know,” she replied softly. “We’ll keep trying.”


End file.
